


Til the Storm Comes, and the World is Quiet

by elphaba_swan



Series: Rise Up (when you're living on your knees) [4]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Beauty and the Beast (1991), Descendants (Disney Movies), Greek and Roman Mythology, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Murder, Child Neglect, Consensual Underage Sex, Dark Descendants, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, F/F, F/M, Fights, Gen, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Police Brutality, Rape Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Defense, This is not Disney's Version
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elphaba_swan/pseuds/elphaba_swan
Summary: On the same day that Dizzy Tremaine gets an invitation to Auradon personally delivered to her, five guards show up at Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shoppe and announce that they are here for Uma, daughter of Ursula.





	1. I am a Problem, that Doesn't Want to Be Solved

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off of the gun scene in Dear White People, so read with caution.

On the same day that Dizzy Tremaine gets an invitation to Auradon personally delivered to her, five guards show up at Ursula’s Fish and Chip Shoppe and announce that they are here for Uma, daughter of Ursula.

It is lunch hour at the Shoppe, and the patrons are sitting stock-still at their tables, the normal din dead silent. Their eyes are fixed on the guards and the handguns that they sport, holstered unobtrusively at their sides. No one dares to speak.

Even Uma’s crew, normally willing to start a fight with anyone, is quiet. Harry Hook is as tense as a bowstring, and the only reason that he hasn’t spoken up yet is because Claudine Frollo has a death grip on his arm. Her normally russet complexion is significantly paler than usual, and Gonzo stands behind her with narrowed eyes at the guards. Desiree and Jonas, Uma’s cousins, are the only ones who keep their full attention on Uma.

Uma is standing in the middle of the room, in the middle of taking an order from a Stabbington cousin before the guards came in. She isn’t really in the mood to deal with this today. Her mother was being even more of a bitch than usual this morning and decided to throw all of her clothes out into the ocean. Everything she is wearing is borrowed; a black tank top from Marya Rasputin, a teal wrap skirt from Desiree, and boots from Sierra that are a size too small, but goddamn it, she is not going barefoot. Her eyeliner is carved with a sharp precision around her eyes; a silent warning for no one to fuck with her today, and half of her hair is up in a top knot.

In short, she doesn’t have the patience to deal with this bullshit.

So when the lead guard says that they are here to take her away, Uma just rolls her eyes. “Cool, can I get back to work now?”

A low murmur passes through the crowd as Uma pulls a pencil out from behind her ear and turns to the Stabbington cousin, ignoring the guards. “Was that dry or wet rot that you wanted?”

“Listen,” one of the guards, a clean-shaven fellow with a youthful face that belies his salt-and-pepper hair, steps forward and addresses Uma. “We have orders from the King to bring you to Auradon—”

“Was I talking to you?” Uma snaps at him, and then turns back to the Stabbington. “So about that rot—”

The guard reaches out and takes her arm. “Just come with us and there’ll be no problem—”

Uma stares at him and then lets out a scoff. “Seriously?” Her lips curl up into a sneer, and Harry lets out a low growl from behind her. Claudine’s grip on his arm tightens and Gonzo grabs the collar of Harry’s jacket before he does something stupid, like he always does.

“Get your hands off of me,” 

The guard stands firm, though he looks like he’s starting to regret ever coming to the Isle. “We have orders from the King—”

“Get your fucking hands off her man, don’t make her say it twice,” Gil warns, coming up beside Uma and glaring at the soldier with a venom that’s so unlike him that the entire crew stares at him in disbelief.

“Stand down,” one of the other guards calls out, walking up next to the one holding Uma’s arm. “There’s no need for violence if you just come with us peacefully.”

She gives him a look of contempt and sneers, shaking her head. “That’s what they all say, but we both know that isn’t true, don’t we?”

The guard not holding her arm flushes, and in that moment, Uma can practically taste the tension in the room building up, and the stares from everyone around her feel as though they are burning into her flesh.

Something is building, and she isn’t sure what’s going to break it.

“I’ve had enough of your words, sea witch,” the guard says sternly, giving her arm a little pull.

_That would do it._

Uma looks down at his hand on her arm and gives him her famous glare, the one that makes grown men quake in their boots and always remember to pay and tip well. “I did tell you,” she says in a soft and deadly voice, “to get your hands off of me.”

Then Uma drives the heel of her free hand into the guard’s face, breaking his nose and wrenching her arm away in one smooth motion.

All hell breaks loose.

Gil punches another guard in the face that tries to grab Uma, Harry manages to free himself from Claudine and Gonzo and is now holding a sword to the throat of the guard whose nose was now broken, and Big Murph is trying to herd the younger members and siblings of the crew to the side. But six-year-old Morwenna Mim manages to get in a few solid jabs with her shiv before Bonnie drags her away, and is still struggling to get back into the fray. Ashe gets a guard in a headlock while Sierra kicks him in the chest, and Marya backs one against a wall with her knife. All of this happens while the diners of the Chip Shoppe abandon their meals and create a stampede in order to escape.

In all the chaos, everyone manages to miss one of the guards brandish a syringe and plunge it into Uma’s neck. Uma’s eyes flutter, and then she goes limp.

At that moment, Claudine can feel her heart stop beating, and one of Uma’s little cousins lets out a whimper. Ashe freezes, and Gil looks like he’s about to throw up.

“UMA!” Harry roars. He lunges to grab her, but the guard scoops her up before he reaches her.

“What did you do to her, you bastards?” Jonas shouts, vaulting over a table and standing next to Harry. His sword is pointed threateningly at the guard holding his cousin, and he is seething.

“If you killed her, I swear to all the fucking gods, I will _eviscerate_ you before sending you to Davy Jones—” Harry snarls, pressing his hook against the throat of the guard hard enough to restrict breathing.

But since the crew has gotten distracted, they forget to keep an eye on the guards, and that gives two of them the liberty to get up and stagger over to join their companion in the front.

“Stand down,” one of them snaps out, a black eye blooming brilliantly on his pale skin.

“Like fuck I will,” Jonas sneers, his arm never wavering.

The two guards pull out their guns and point them at Harry and Jonas, causing Ashe to shriek and the kids standing off to the side to start whimpering in earnest. “Stand down, _now_!”

“They’re just kids!” Sierra shouts, her voice cracking.

“Just put down the guns—” Marya tries to reason.

“What is it about ‘stand down’ that you people don’t understand?” One of the guards demands, frustrated. He unclicks the safety and re-aims the gun at Jonas. “Stand down, and I’m not saying it again!”

Watching this, Bonnie feels physically sick. _Jonas’s sisters are standing in the corner, they shouldn’t be seeing this. They shouldn’t have to see their brother at gunpoint and their cousin taken down by some dicks with orders. Desiree is standing right there, she doesn’t deserve to see her twin brother and her cousin be victims. Fuck, am I about to see my boyfriend get shot?_

Harry is stone-faced, but he removes his hook from the guard’s throat after casting a glance at Jonas. Ashe and Sierra immediately grab his arms before he can grab any other weapons or try to strangle all of the guards by himself.

Jonas is shaking and his voice is unsteady as he says, “Okay, I’m putting down my sword now.” He drops his sword carefully on the floor and makes it a point to kick it away from himself. “Can I please just check her pulse to make sure she’s still breathing?”

The guard considers this and then jerks his head forward. Jonas approaches cautiously, careful to keep his hands in the guard's eyesight at all times, and presses two fingers against Uma’s throat.

For a moment, the only sounds in the shoppe are of harsh breathing.

Then Jonas retracts his hand. “She’s alive,” he says quietly.

Harry slumps in relief, Gonzo starts breathing again, and Claudine lets out a shuddering sigh.

“If she had just cooperated with us, none of this would have needed to happen,” the guard says sternly as Desiree begins to sob.

“Come on men,” he hoists Uma over his shoulder and walks out of the Chip Shoppe. The other four guards silently walk out of the restaurant, glaring at the crew as they file out.

The door closes with a _bang_! behind them, and then Jonas sinks to the floor, putting his head in his hands. Bonnie runs over to him, and wraps her arms around him, pulling his head to her chest. Jonas and Desiree’s little sisters are crying, and Sierra walks over to try and comfort them, wrapping her arms around the youngest while Claudine tries to comfort the others.

Harry starts to walk towards the door, but Desiree calls out after him, her voice still thick. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To get our Captain back,” He picks up his jacket from the ground and puts it on.

“Dude, that’s a suicide mission,” Gil points out, grabbing his shoulder.

Harry jerks his shoulder away. “Fine by me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake – listen to me, you self-centered bastard,” Desiree snaps, walking up in front of Harry. “You are of no use to us dead, okay? We need you right now.”

“Get out of my way,” Harry replies darkly.

“No.” Desiree’s eyes are full of tears, but her voice is strong and full of contempt. “Do you think that you’re the only one who cares about her?” Her voice shakes a little on the next sentence. “I love her too, you know.”

At the mention of that forbidden emotion, Harry’s shoulders come up defensively, but he says nothing.

“They have Uma,” Desiree says quietly as Marya comes up next to her and wraps her arms around her. “We can’t do anything to them as long as they have her.”

Harry gives her a look of hopeless rage. “Then what do we do?” he demands, and he sounds so much like a lost little boy that Desiree can feel her heart twisting.

“We wait,” she says, feeling the words settle in the air like weights. “And hope that they give her back.”


	2. I Looked Up, and the Town Had it's Eyes on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Uma first wakes up in the limo, she is convinced for a full minute that this is divine retribution for the time that she and Harry had sex in the confessional.
> 
> Or, the one where Uma has not one, but two meaningful conversations with 'good people'

When Uma wakes up, her stomach is cramping into knots and her brain is trying to escape her head by insistently knocking into her skull over and over again. She tries to open her eyes, but immediately has to close them again, because colorful spots are dancing in her vision.

For a moment, she is convinced that all of this is divine retribution for the time that she and Harry had sex in the confessional. (Fine, twice. Okay, more than that, but less than six!)

But then someone clears their throat, and Uma groggily raises her head and opens her eyes, biting back several curses.

Dizzy Tremaine is sitting next to her, looking at her like she isn’t sure whether Uma is going to attack her or not. Chocolate is smeared around her mouth, and there’s something red and sticky dripping on her dress.

“Are you alright?” she asks, quiet and shy.

“Peachy,” Uma growls, then notices the manacles wrapped around her wrists like bracelets for the first time. When she looks down, she sees that her feet are chained up as well. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Dizzy hunches against the seat, but she doesn’t seem frightened, only wary. “You were already chained up when I got here,” she says cautiously. “What did you do?”

“Refused their _kind_ invitation to Auradon,” Uma mutters, examining the chains and jangling them experimentally. _Motherfucker, the one day I don’t have any pins in my hair, either!_

Dizzy’s jaw drops. “You got invited to Auradon too?”

“What?” Uma looks at Dizzy in disbelief. “I wasn’t serious, what do you mean . . .” Her voice trails off as she notices the scroll next to Dizzy, the seal of the King prominently displayed.

“Oh.” Uma says flatly.

Dizzy looks confused for a moment, and asks, “But why are you here then . . . ?”

Uma raises an eyebrow at her and jerks her head to the manacles.

All of the color drains out of Dizzy’s face. “No . . . that can’t be why.”

She gives the younger girl a mocking smile. “Oh, yes.”

“No . . . Evie wouldn’t let them kill you!” Dizzy protests, crossing her arms and giving Uma a defiant look.

“Oh really?” Uma snorts. “I spelled their precious king into falling in love with me at their stupid party—”

“Cotillion.”

“—and then tried to destroy their yacht. I don’t think they’re calling me over there for a picnic and a friendly chat, do you?”

Dizzy looks upset. “They’re _heroes_ , though.”

“So what?”

“What do you mean so what? They’re supposed to do the right thing!”

“Honey, none of those people have done the right thing ever since they locked us up on that godforsaken island. Face it, the only reason Evie invited you here is because she felt guilty for forgetting about you.”

“That’s not true!” Dizzy fires back, looking upset.

“Oh really? Then why did it take her six months to invite you to Auradon? I remember going into your salon, and Evie was there every time, yapping away about fashion with you. You got mistaken for Evie’s little sister so often that eventually everyone started calling you ‘Little E’.”

Dizzy beams at the memory, but her smile fades as Uma continues.

“She didn’t even say goodbye, did she? No, she hopped in that limo and never looked back until Mal decided that being a princess was too fucking hard and came back to the Isle. Are you telling me that it didn’t sting, at least a little, knowing that even _Mal_ remembered you before Evie did?”

“Shut up.” Dizzy says quietly, her eyes burning behind her glasses.

But Uma has always been relentless, and there has always been a sick satisfaction that she gets from spitting out horrible truths that no one wants to hear. “Evie fucked off to Auradon and got her perfect life, with pretty dresses and twirling princesses and somehow you slipped her mind. Either she has the memory of a damn goldfish, or she just purposefully forgot—”

“Shut up!” Dizzy shouts, glaring fiercely at Uma, but Uma notices the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “You don’t know anything! You don’t know me, or Evie, so don’t talk about it like you do!”

She slumps against the seat, shaking. There are tears starting to trail down her face, and as Dizzy swipes at her cheeks angrily, Uma feels a pang of (not guilt, because she has never felt guilty in her life, and she isn’t starting now) some slimy emotion that pokes at her insistently.

There is silence inside the limousine for a few minutes, as Dizzy wipes her eyes, and Uma tries to squash the emotion inside of her, looking everywhere but at the young girl in front of her.

Dizzy finally speaks up, her voice hoarse. “I – I know she forgot me.”

Uma slides her eyes over to look at Dizzy, and actually looks at her for the first time since she woke up in the limo. Dizzy’s cheeks are streaked with tear tracks, and her eyes have the sadness of someone who has seen too many horrible things at a young age. But her voice is strong, and when she raises her head to look up at Uma, her gaze is unwavering.

“But I’m going to Auradon now, and even if she forgot me, she at least got me out of a life of sweeping and away from An—” she breaks off, but Uma knows what Dizzy was about to say.

_Away from Anthony_.

Away from the older brother who had hung Harry and Jace Badun, beaten Hermie Bing to death and brutally raped Claudine Frollo. If that had been what Anthony Tremaine did to people who thought they could be good, Uma couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had done to Auradon-obsessed Dizzy, who had never shown the faintest hint of evil.

_There was a reason we cut off his dick, and it wasn’t only for Claudine._

Dizzy clears her throat, looking awkward. “A – and away from Granny and all of her chores.”

Uma stays silent, but tries to school her expression into something resembling sympathy. It feels strange on her face, but the Isle has never exactly been a proponent of feeling sorry for people. Revenge is what she’s good at. She understands revenge, and does it well.

“This is my only chance to make it out,” Dizzy says quietly, twisting the hem of her dress. “I need to take it, even if it is only out of pity.” Then her gaze turns fiery and pins Uma down. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

“I know that,” Uma says, surprised. “Of course you should take your shot.”

“Wait, what?” Dizzy shakes her head, looking confused all over again. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Take the opportunity to get off the Isle; you’d be an idiot if you did anything else.” Uma snaps, twisting the chains. “Just don’t try to paint them as saviors or anything just because they decided to save you. There are countless other kids on the Isle, I don’t see them getting invited, do I?”

Dizzy frowns, but she seems to be considering what Uma is saying.

“Look,” Uma begins, giving up on twisting her arms out of the chains. “I don’t give a fuck what you say, I’m getting my head chopped off no matter what—” Dizzy looks horrified and opens her mouth to say something, but Uma continues on. “—and when I do, I want you to tell the King to take the little villain kids—”

Suddenly, the limo door is yanked open, and Uma jerks back instinctively, while Dizzy presses herself up against the seat.

A guard is standing outside of the car, a grim scowl on his face. Next to him is Evie, resplendent in a blue blazer and a red streaked black pencil skirt.

“Evie!” Dizzy squeals, launching herself out of the limo and into Evie’s arms.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Evie hugs Dizzy close, and then leans back to inspect her. “Did you have a nice ride? I told the driver to pack some ice cream—”

“It was _so_ good,” Dizzy gushes, her eyes lighting up. “It was so sweet and creamy, and I added in some red syrup, but then it dripped on my dress—”

Evie beams. “That’s perfect, because we’re going to do the one thing you always wanted to do whenever we talked about Auradon.”

“SHOPPING!” Dizzy shrieks at a pitch that makes Uma wince and the guard look mildly nauseated. She blushes, but Evie smiles down at her and takes her hand.

“Come on. I have the whole day planned out. First we’ll go to the spa and get some mani-pedis, and then we’ll visit this _adorable_ little boutique that just opened up on Rose Crossing—”

Evie starts to lead Dizzy away, still chattering about mini-dresses and accessorizing. Dizzy follows obediently, but she looks back over her shoulder at Uma as they walk away. Uma watches her go, suddenly feeling even more cast adrift than before.

But she is the Queen of the Isle and the only living daughter of Ursula. She will be damned before she lets anyone see her scared.

So it is with that thought in mind that she grins at the guard and teases, “You taking me shopping as well, big guy?”

The guard doesn’t answer, just reaches into the limo and roughly yanks her out, nearly making her fall.

Uma sighs. _So it’s gonna be like that then, huh?_

 

****

 

Another guard shows up, and they frog-march her into the building and down the immaculately gleaming halls. Uma studies the wood paneling with distaste and comments, “Who chose the panels? What is this, the sixteenth century?” but the guards don’t say anything. They stare straight ahead, and don’t even look at her, even when she stops walking. Then they just start dragging her down the hallway, her boots scraping against the wooden floors with a terrible screeching sound. Uma smirks, because even if she’s going to die, she can die with the knowledge that she wreaked hell on their waxed floors.

At the same time though, the screeching cannot drown out her thoughts. What will happen to the crew? Will they splinter and fracture apart, or will they band together to take their vengeance? She hopes it’s the latter, because the thought of the crew splitting up makes her feel physically sick.

“Is the king inside his study?” The guard on her right asks. Uma looks around in surprise; she hadn’t felt them stop.

A stout man with a ridiculous mustache gives Uma a look that manages to convey both extreme disgust and fear so effectively that she kind of wants to ask whether he can teach her how do that. “Yes. Is this her?”

“Yes, this is Ursula’s spawn.”

“Ursula’s spawn has a name, you know,” Uma drawls out, but her heart is starting to beat faster and oh fuck, is she hyperventilating a little? It feels like she’s starting to hyperventilate, and maybe that’s because it just hit her that she is going to _die here_ , at the orders of some pansy-ass white boy and she can’t remember the last thing she said to Harry—

 The mustachioed man opens the door, and the guards walk Uma into a room that has bookcases making up two walls, and an oak monstrosity of a desk that the King of Auradon is sitting behind. The guards deposit Uma in a high-backed chair in front of the desk, and then wrap her chains around the armrests and legs of the chair. After they finish, they stand at attention and look to Ben for orders.

“Will that be all, your Majesty?”

“Yes. Thank you for all of your help,” Ben replies formally, and Uma just barely manages to hold back from rolling her eyes when the guards bow and back out of the room.

The door clicks shut, and then it’s just her and Ben.

Uma gives him a flat smile. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t curtsey, right?”

“Can we skip the jokes?” Ben asks, leaning forward in his chair. “I think we’ll make the whole situation simpler by just agreeing to hear the other person out.”

Uma raises an eyebrow. “I’m chained to the chair. I have to listen to you, even if it hurts me to do so.”

“Noted.” Ben is twisting a pen in his hands, and he looks uncomfortable. Uma idly wonders whether Mal is watching from a hidden camera somewhere, laughing and eating popcorn. She knows she would be doing the same if it were the other way around.

“My father . . . he wants . . . well, to make an example out of you.” The words trip awkwardly out of Ben’s mouth, and he hates himself a little for saying all of this.

“What sort of example?”

Ben winces. “It would be something that involves your execution being broadcast throughout the entirety of Auradon and the Isle.”

Uma’s voice comes out calmer and cooler than she feels. “That’s understandable.”

 “However, King Triton wants me to hand you over to him. He has several ideas on what to do with you, and is confident that any one of them would serve as more than adequate justice for me.”

_Hell to the fucking no._

Ben resists the urge to recoil at Uma’s dark glare. He’s pretty sure that no one has ever looked at him with so much disgust as she is looking at him now. “How nice,” she purrs sarcastically. “Tell me, do I get to choose which of them gets to kill me, or can I do it myself?”

Uma’s words hit him like a blow to the chest, and his voice is unsteady as a result. “I’m not going to let them do any of that.”

“Why not?” Uma tries to lean her chair back, but the legs remain stubbornly on the carpet. “I would be pissed if someone stole my kid and forced him to fall in love with them, and Uncle Triton has always been a huge dick, so you would be perfectly justified in letting them kill me. God knows I wouldn’t have had any compunction about killing you.”

Uma watches Ben flinch, and she feels a vicious sort of pleasure in his guilt. _Good. I’m not going to make killing me easier for him._

“That may be so,” Ben finally says. “But I’m not a vengeful person.”

She rolls her eyes, but stays silent, so Ben takes that as invitation to go on.

“I want to make a deal.”

Uma’s answering laugh is bitter. “You’ve gotten the wrong sea witch, sweetheart. I don’t make deals. That’s more my mother’s thing than mine.”

“I don’t want to make a deal with your mother,” Ben insists, holding his ground. “I want to make a deal with you.”

“What sort of deal?” Uma asks, bored. Her heart has stopped skipping beats, and now that she isn’t in any immediate danger, her disgust with the boy king and everything he stands for has come back in full force.

“I’m going write a pardon for you and the rest of your crew, and all of you will be invited to the Isle.” Ben says, carefully watching Uma’s face to see how she reacts to the news. Her expression doesn’t change. “Evie and I are also planning on making a list of kids who deserve a chance in Auradon.”

Uma makes sure that her face remains blank, but her heart is starting to speed up again. “What’s the catch?”

“Catch?” Ben furrows his eyebrows. “There is no catch.”

She sneers. “My mother may not have taught me much, but the one thing I always remember is that everything has a catch.”

Ben considers this. “This shouldn’t really count as a catch, but I wanted you to take a seat on my Council.”

“No,” Uma says flatly.

“What?”

“No to the Council, yes to everything else.” The tattoos on her wrist feel like they are burning into her skin, and she can barely concentrate on anything else besides the utter feeling of _no_ that’s inside her.

How can she work for the son of the man who destroyed families, imprisoned children, and left them alone with monsters?

“Why not?”

Uma ignores his question. “What’s the other option?”

Ben stares at her for a moment, and then his face hardens. “If you refuse to work with me, my father and King Triton will be free to do whatever they want to you.”

“Do you think they scare me?” Uma challenges, leaning forward and scowling at Ben. “Do you think that Death scares me? Little boy, Hades has a suite reserved for me in hell.”

Ben really wants Uma to stop talking so flippantly about her life, but he knows that now isn’t the time to address that. Right now, he has to convince her that this isn’t some big trick. “You may not care about your own life, but my father will make sure that everyone on your crew meets the same fate as you.”

Uma’s eyes flare and cold air gusts through the open window behind him, scattering the papers on his desk and bringing in the scent of the sea. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs uncomfortably, feeling goosebumps prickling on the back of his neck. “They did kidnap me and threaten to feed me to a number of animals. One of them even said they wouldn’t mind eating me . . .” His voice trails off at Uma’s cold look.

“They were following orders.” Her voice is cutting, each word spoken in a deadly tone. “Surely your father understands that idea? That is how he gets most of his dirty work done, after all.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?!” Uma snarls, the chains on her arms starting to jangle ominously. “God, isn’t it enough for your father to kill my brothers and sisters that he also has to kill my crew as well?”

For a moment, Ben feels like all of the air has been punched out of his chest, and he is unable to do anything. The only thought that is able to pass his mind is _whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat._

“I swear to all of the gods, if your father or my uncle touches a single hair on any member of my crew’s heads, I will _burn them alive_. One of my crew members is a father; would they leave his child an orphan?” Uma demands. She is about to continue her tirade, but is cut off by Ben’s question, whispered in quiet terror.

“Did my father really kill your brothers and sisters?”

Uma pauses and studies Ben. His face is drawn and pale, and his eyes are practically begging her to take it back. A variety of cruel answers fly through her head, but for once, she decides to take a little mercy.

“They won’t tell you this in your classes, but my mother was pregnant when they took her in for her trial,” Uma begins, sitting back against her chair. Her voice takes a far-off quality as she recalls her mother whispering snatches of the story through countless nights and bottles of cough syrup.

“Cecaelias have to be born in water, because the ability to breathe air doesn’t come in until after the first year of life. My uncle and your father knew that, and they still cursed my mother to never go near the ocean ever again. She couldn’t raise them in water, so they probably weren’t going to live.”

She spares a glance at Ben, who looks sick and is clutching onto his desk, knuckles white.

“My mom always said that if even the girl who she had tried to kill was advocating for her right to go into the water, then it was a clear sign that the whole thing was fucked up to begin with,” Uma says quietly, looking down at her wrists. For the first time, Ben notices the names written across her wrists in white ink, and then feels a pit hollowing in his stomach.

“I never knew,” he says hoarsely.

For a second, Ben catches a glimpse of the look she gave him after he had first apologized to her on the Isle, that look of disbelief mixed with a dash of cautious hope. The look is gone in a flash though, and is replaced by a blank stare.

He scrubs his face, trying to calm himself down. Part of his mind is vehemently protesting Uma’s words, insisting that they cannot be true, that his parents are good people, and they would never sentence innocents to die. But there is a bigger part of his mind that is dredging up memories from the depths of his mind, memories that never made sense but now do.

How King Eric and Queen Ariel had never visited Auradon in all of the years of his life, and how Prince Naveen and Princess Tiana had declined sending their children to Auradon Prep. Why Princess Jasmine had been so reluctant to allow him and Mal to visit Agrabah, and how Mulan never looked his father in the eye.

_How could I have been so blind?_

“I’m sorry,” Ben says quietly, which makes Uma’s eyes focus on him. He clears his throat, trying to get rid of the roughness. “I know that doesn’t make up for anything, but I’m still sorry.”

There is a hint of sympathy in Uma’s gaze, but she slowly shakes her head. “Do you see why I can’t work for you now? I wouldn’t just be betraying my principles; I would be accepting the murder of my siblings as collateral damage. You may not think that I have any emotions other than rage, and maybe you’re right, because I cannot let go of my family that easily.” Her lip curls. “Not to mention, your dad is threatening to kill my crew if I don’t comply with your orders, so that’s kind of—”

“You wouldn’t be working for my dad though,” Ben interrupts, looking at Uma intently. “I’m the king now; he doesn’t have any power unless I give it to him.”

The words make him vaguely nauseous, but Uma actually seems to be considering what he’s saying, so he plunges on.

“You and I can work together and make sure nothing like what happened to you ever happens again. You were right on the Isle; it does deserve better care and supplies. We can draw up a new trade deal to send better supplies to the Isle other than leftovers. There are probably other thousands of other problems that I don’t know about, but you can make them better.”

Uma is silent for a moment, and then asks. “How do I know you aren’t just saying that right now, and won’t actually do anything later on?”

In that moment, his mother’s voice comes into his mind. _Remember Ben; the true measure of a person is not what they preach, but the actions that they take._

As his mother’s voice fills his head, Ben feels a strange sort of calmness overtake him.

“I swear that I will fulfill any promises that I make to you, and will make reparations to the citizens of the Isle of the Lost.”

Uma raises an eyebrow at that, but then her eyes go wide at what Ben says next.

“I swear this by the River Styx.”

Thunder growls out across the sky and Uma stares at Ben.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?”

Ben shrugs. “Swore an oath that if broken, will cause severe consequences?” He looks directly at Uma. “If this is what it takes for you to trust me, then so be it.”

Behind Ben, dark clouds are gathering on the horizon, but he doesn’t seem to notice the darkness; all of his attention is focused on her.

“Do we have a deal?”

Uma’s eyes flick to his face, then the first genuine smile he’s ever seen from her plays across her mouth. “Deal.”


	3. I'm About to Lose my Mind, and I Need a Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the Isle; "I don’t know about y’all, but when Uma comes back, I don’t want to be the one to explain to her that Harry’s dead from hypothermia or some shit.”
> 
> In Auradon; “No offense dude, but you done fucked up.”
> 
> Or, the one where Uma comes back and Ben gets to tell the Rotten Four about his brand-new Council member.

“Okay, enough is enough,” Bonnie shoves her chair back with a loud scraping noise and stands up. “I’m getting Harriet.”

Marya winces and Gonzo shakes his head, leaning over to mutter to Murph; “Bitch is cray,” while Murph sighs and covers his son’s ears. Claudine just looks tired. “Bon. . .”

“I’m serious!” Bonnie snaps at the crew assembled around the tables. “He’s been out there for hours now, and I don’t know about y’all, but when Uma comes back, I don’t want to be the one to explain to her that Harry’s dead from hypothermia or some shit.”

Desiree flinches, but doesn’t say anything. Marya glances at Claudine, who gives her a helpless shrug, as if to say _what can we do_? They all know that Bonnie’s right.

None of them had stopped Harry from storming out of the Chip Shoppe and setting himself down on the stoop to wait for Uma to come back. Ashe and Jonas had even stayed out with him for two hours, the latter keeping his eyes focused on the horizon at all times in order to block out the memory of staring down the barrel of the gun . . . But then rain had started pouring down from the sky while thunder started to rumble overhead, and Harry still refused to come inside. Claudine had tried to convince him to come inside and eat something, but Harry had just waved her off. When Ashe told him to stop being an idiot, he told her to fuck off, and when Morwenna had threatened to cut off his balls, Harry had merely fixed her with a look that was so blank and uncaring that it would have unnerved Cruella de Vil.

That was five hours ago.

“He’ll kill us if we get Harriet,” Gil speaks up, and Claudine notices just how horrible he looks, with worry etched into the lines of his face and tension curling his shoulders. “Let’s just give him a few more minutes before we get her?”

“He hasn’t _eaten_ , Gil,” Bonnie snaps, and Gil raises his hands defensively.

“I’m just saying—”

“Dude, I get where you’re coming from, I seriously do,” Marya says tiredly, running a hand through her hair. “But, like, don’t you guys think that if Uma was coming back, she would’ve already come back by now?”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Desiree looks close to tears, but her eyes are glimmering with fury at her girlfriend. “Don’t say that she’s dead yet when we don’t know a single goddamn thing yet—”

She turns towards the rest of the crew for support, but Sierra is avoiding eye contact, Gonzo starts whistling, and Gil hesitates for too long.

“Babe,” Marya begins pleadingly, but Desiree has already pushed back her chair and is heading towards the kitchens, her shoulders shaking.

“Great job,” Ashe mutters, attention focused on the knife she’s sharpening to a deadly edge.

“Go to hell, Ashe,” Marya snarls, all traces of humor absent from her voice.

Ashe looks up and sneers at her. “I’m just saying—”

“Guys—” Claudine tries to interrupt. She can already see where this is going. Marya and Ashe both lash out when they’re anxious, and right now, both of them are too on edge to think clearly before they do something stupid, like get into a fistfight. She’s about to try and placate them when Nicky, Murph’s son, speaks up.

“Dad, is Uma dead?”

Murph’s eyes widen and he chokes on his beer a little as Gonzo pounds him on the back. The table is dead silent in anticipation of Murph’s answer, and Claudine feels like she’s been punched in the stomach, because that’s what they’re all afraid of, isn’t it? That their fearless, awe-inspiring leader is dead, all because she dared to try and get a better life. Worst of all, it means that if even Uma couldn’t make it out, where will hope exist on the Isle now? She doesn’t want to imagine a world without Uma in it.

Murph opens his mouth to answer, but then headlights blaze out of the darkness, and Gil can vaguely see Harry start to sprint off the stoop and towards Uma.

The girl in question is wearily opening the door to the limo. Her boots are heavy with handfuls of candy she grabbed from the snack bar (what? She had never promised Ben that she wouldn’t steal anything), and when she steps out of the limo, she is immediately pelted with water, which burns like fire against her exposed skin.

_Note to self: tell Ben that if the fairies don’t take the water curse off of me and Mom, there will be fucking consequences, such as my foot breaking up in their collective asses._

The limo driver barely waits for her to get both feet out before wrenching the car back with a sickening sound like a plunger being pulled out from a blocked sink, and driving off like her Uncle Hades is chasing him. In a happy coincidence, this results in the contents of a large puddle of what is hopefully mud splattered all over her.

“Motherfucker,” Uma growls out, flicking a stray braid out of her face. The braid is more brown than turquoise now, and smells like a mix of brine, that horrifying smell that comes out during the rain, and rotten fruit. In short, her hair is utterly fucking ruined.

“Uma!”

She looks up, and then Harry’s in front of her and his arms are around her, and Uma finally feels like she can breathe again. It doesn’t matter that it feels like the water is pouring salt on an open wound, or that her hair will probably have to be cut off. Harry’s here, and that’s honestly all she needs sometimes.

“Hi,” she mumbles into his shoulder through a mouthful of leather. His arms have the slightest hint of a tremor and she knows that isn’t entirely due to the freezing rain splashing down around them. If he had been anyone else, she would have already remarked on it, but honestly, he’s really warm and she’s freezing. She allows herself to relax into his hold for one, two, five seconds before pushing him back.

“I’m alive.”

“Damn, really?” Harry surveys her, blue eyes flickering over the marks on her wrists (which are starting to bruise, mother of _Zeus_ ), lips curling up into a dark sneer.

“Well, those bitches won’t be after I get through with them—”

“Later,” Uma mutters, and Harry gives her a strange look before they start to start to walk towards the Chip Shoppe. The doors fly open, and her crew spills out.

“Uma!” Marya is the first one to reach her. To her surprise, she doesn’t even seem to notice the mud and instead immediately throws her arms around her. Hers and Marya’s friendship has never been the touchy-feely sort – their relationship has always been more based on sarcastic remarks and a lack of morals, but Uma doesn’t hesitate in reciprocating the embrace.

“I think I just became a Christian, _Jesus_ , we thought you were dead—” Bonnie declares, breaking into a relieved smile.

“Are you okay? Do we need to get our guns?” Ashe demands, nearly tripping over the stairs in her haste to get down. Murph rolls his eyes and holds her steady, but he also looks as though a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders as he looks at Uma.

“What happened to your hair?”

“Gil!” Claudine scolds, looking embarrassed to even be near him.

“I’m just asking!”

“Bitch, have you learned nothing from living with a bunch of women? Don't ask about the hair!” Sierra smacks him upside the head.

“You’re not dead!” Nicky exclaims happily, hugging her knee.

“What did they do to you?” Gonzo demands.

“True, what did those bastards do?” Marya looks ready to start the interrogation as she steps back, eyes glittering for blood.

Uma wants nothing more than to find the nearest bed and collapse into it, preferably with Harry - (get your mind out of the gutter, she doesn't have the stamina for sex right now) - but right now, her crew is looking for reassurance, and she needs to be a captain.

So she squares her shoulders, stands a little taller, and manages to say, “Marya, go get the rest of the crew. We’re having a meeting. Oh, and if someone wants to take my boots, I have a bunch of candy in there, so we should probably split that up among the kids.”

 

****

 “You did _what_?”

“Have you completely lost your mind?”

“No offense dude, but you done fucked up.”

Ben sits back and lets Evie, Carlos, and Jay’s protests wash over him. He wants to defend what he did, but he knows from past experiences dealing with his Council that sometimes it’s just better to get all of the complaints and shock out of the way first. Carlos looks utterly dumbfounded, like he can’t even imagine how Ben would even think that this would be a good idea. Jay looks like he’s two seconds away from calling a doctor to have Ben professionally examined and Evie . . .

Evie looks like she can’t decide whether to kill him or yell at him for being stupid.

Funnily enough, the only person who isn’t looking at him like he’s crazy is the one person he expected to protest the most.

But that might have something to do with the fact that she was the first one he told his plan too, and he’s already heard all of her protests.

Mal is leaning against a wall, green eyes glimmering with amusement. When Ben catches her eye, she flashes him a grin, as if to say _see how much fun this is_?

Really, this is going to be a repetition of all of Mal’s complaints, but he eventually wore her down to resigned annoyance and a promise that when he regrets this, she gets to lord this over him for eternity. This is going to be a piece of cake compared to that, right?

Right?!

Yet, he kind of wants to hurl himself out of the window to avoid the ‘drop-dead’ glare that Evie’s giving him.

“I know this comes as a shock to all of you—” Ben begins, but Evie cuts him off immediately.

“No Ben. A shock would be Mary’s Dress Emporium closing down forever. A shock would be your mother changing her color scheme from royal blue and yellow to purple and bright orange. This is a damn _catastrophe_.”

Mal snickers. “I told you that this would make her swear at you,”

Ben shoots her a _you’re-not-helping_ look, but Evie spins on her heel and glares at Mal, who looks back at her with a coolly amused look.

“How can you be so calm about this?”

“Because it’s not going to work out,” Mal responds with a smirk. Ben frowns.

“Don’t you have any faith in me?”

“It’s not about having faith in you, we’re saying that Uma’s crazier than a bag of cats and that we have no faith in _her_ ,” Carlos interjects.

“Seriously dude, did you have to swear on the River Styx?” Jay asks with a frown, crossing his arms. “Are you sure that this is the real Ben?”

“I am right _here_ ,” Ben protests, feeling irritation curl around his temples.

“Nah, I already checked,” Mal replies flippantly, not even acknowledging Ben.

“Well, check again, ‘cause otherwise I think your boyfriend may be on some shit—”

“—Utterly irresponsible, I cannot believe that you thought this was a good idea—”

“Do you not remember them threatening to feed you to sharks—?”

“ENOUGH!” Ben roars, and the room goes silent. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples, trying to massage out the incoming headache.

_Never mind, this is way worse than telling Mal._

When he opens his eyes again, Carlos is staring at him like he’s a stranger, Jay looks mildly impressed, Evie looks stunned, and Mal is eyeing him like she wants to eat him, which he honestly has no idea how to interpret.

Ben takes a deep breath. “I know this is weird, but I’m the king and this is my decision. No Jay, I am not drunk or high or someone else. I know exactly what I’m doing. Carlos, I do happen to remember almost being fed to sharks, thanks for reminding me. I get your concerns, but the deal that Uma and I hammered out so far is more than reasonable on my end. Evie, I’m surprised at your reaction. I thought that you of all people would have understood why I have to do this, especially after Dizzy?”

Evie changes from stunned to furious in only a second. “You cannot compare that octopus to Dizzy!”

“Why not?” Ben counters. “They’re both villain kids, and both deserve a chance at a better life.”

“Dizzy is _infinitely_ better than Uma, Ben! Unlike Uma, Dizzy’s never tried to kill anyone, and also unlike Uma, Dizzy actually wants to be good! You cannot lump the two together, it just doesn’t work like that,” Evie declares, her voice rising.

“She’s got you there, dude,” Carlos says with a shrug.

“Okay fine, then not Dizzy, that was a bad example. But if we’re going to talk about only the morally virtuous being allowed into Auradon, then it’s not like you guys were saints either,” Ben retorts.

Evie looks like he just told her that her outfit was ugly, Carlos looks vaguely offended, but Mal and Jay are sharing shrugs, as if to say _yeah, no argument there_. It gives Ben hope that he can convince them to listen and take him seriously. He knows it was a low blow, bringing up their pasts like that, but he needs them to listen, and if this is the only way, then bring it on.

“We did what we had to so we could survive,” Evie finally says, after a dangerous pause. Her face is drawn, and her eyes look guarded.

“So is Uma,” Ben says, a tinge of pleading entering his voice. “Everything she did on the Isle – kidnapping me, spelling me, - that was all so she and her crew could go to Auradon.”

“They only wanted to come so they could take their revenge though,” Jay argues.

“And we only came here because we had to do our parents bidding,” Mal reminds them, peeling herself away from the wall and walking to stand beside her boyfriend. When Ben flashes her a surprised look, she smirks. “What? I can play devil’s advocate.”

“I just think it’s risky,” Carlos says doubtfully. “and swearing on the River Styx . . . You do realize that if you do anything to break that bargain, you’re good as dead, right?”

Ben shrugs. “If it improves the lives of the citizens of the Isle of the Lost, I think it’s a worthwhile risk.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re letting this happen,” Jay addresses Mal with a mischievous grin. “You _hate_ Uma.”

Mal gives Ben a surprisingly soft smile. “But I love Ben more,”

“Gross,” Carlos says reflexively, then looks embarrassed, while Jay holds no such compunctions, miming retching noises.

Ben turns towards Evie, who has a calculating look in her eyes. “Come on, Evie,” he says with a hopeful smile.

Evie looks around at all of them, then throws up her hands and sighs. “Next time, I’m helping you negotiate out your terms.”

“Yes!” Ben grins wildly at the same time Mal says in a horrified tone, “What do you mean, _next time_?”

 

****

“You’re plotting something.”

Harry’s back is to her when he says this, in the middle of pouring out a glass of Jonas’s infamous Bottom of the Barrel (a toxic mixture of tequila, watery vodka, and bitter absinthe mixed with the dregs of all of the liquor bottles in the Chip Shoppe). The dim candlelight illuminates the constellations inked on his back faintly, and his shadow is creeping up the walls of her room, making him seem even taller than he is.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Uma says innocently, cosseted in her cocoon of blankets on her tiny bed. She’s long since changed out of her mud-stained clothes into an overlarge shirt that keeps slipping over her shoulders and boxer shorts. When she reaches for a braid to play with, her hand meets empty air, and she lets out a frustrated groan. Desiree and her cousin Harmonia have long since cut off her extensions, and now all that’s left is her regular turquoise and black hair, which only reaches her shoulders. It’s stupid, but she misses her braids.

Harry lets out a derisive noise as he turns around, holding two glasses of a suspiciously crimson liquid. “You were way too calm when you found out about the guard threatening to shoot me and Jonas.”

Uma accepts the glass from Harry and takes a sip to cover her wince as the memory of Harmonia accidentally letting that little detail slip in the midst of the crew’s bombardment of questions, and then the room going dead silent for a second, before Jonas rushed at his sister, threatening to knock all of her teeth out, goes through her mind. Even now, the red gummy fish that she had consumed earlier churns in her stomach at the memory.

“That was a shit-storm,”

“Understatement of the century darling,” Harry corrects, sprawling gracelessly on the bed next to her, closer than he normally would at the beginning of the night. “And I saw your face when little Nia blabbed – you looked fit to murder us all.”

“Can you blame me?” Uma demands, draining the rest of the glass and trying not to shudder as the liquid courses an icy trail down her throat. “You’d be pissed if you found out the king’s hired goons tried to shoot your crew, and then they all conspired to hide it from you, which,” she adds, scowling at him. “I’m still pissed at you about.”

Harry sighs. “Dearest, you do realize that out of the two of us, Jonas was the one most affected by the situation, yes? It was his decision not to tell you, and I went along with it.”

“That’s an adorable story, but I _don’t_ _care_. I’m the captain, not Jonas,” she snipes, leaning against the wall.

“Fair point,” he acknowledges, taking a drink. Then his eyes brighten and he leers at her. “But I know you to be the girl who once beat up a boy who was a foot taller than her and three years older just because he called you ‘the sea witch’s bastard’.”

“Hunter Stabbington still has the scar,” she says reminiscently, an evil grin flashing across her face. “What’s your point?”

“The point is, you don’t forgive or forget – you fucking get your revenge,” Harry says fervently, tipping his glass back.

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Uma says, deadpan.

Harry grins darkly at her in response. “Let’s just say that you have the same look on your face right before you pulled your knife on the Stabbington boy and kidnapped the Wonder King.”

Uma twirls the glass in her hand indolently, feeling Harry’s eyes upon her, and she lets a smirk play across her mouth. “Fine, you’re right. I am plotting.”

“Knew it,” he lays his head in her lap and glances up at her, eyes half-lidded. “Anything to do with the king, perchance?”

“Oh, of course.” She cards her fingers through his hair. “We deserve a little revenge, and after all, I’m not the one who made a vow on the River Styx to deliver on whatever he wanted, am I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to use this fic as my NaNoWriMo project, so I should be updating pretty frequently, in thought at least, if not always in practice. Find me on Tumblr as kindofchaoticgood for all of my other Descendants stuff.


	4. I've Got a List of Names, and Yours is in Red, Underlined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is there a reason that you broke into my house?” He demands, trying to inject force into his voice.  
> “Isn't it obvious?” Uma's eyes gleam predatorily. “We're here for revenge.”  
> \--  
> "Is this some sort of sick joke?"  
> "What?"  
> "Everybody on this list is dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry! I know I said I would use this fic as my NaNoWriMo and I did! . . . Just not in the conventional way. Instead, I wrote down a bunch of fluff and other stuff in the same universe, none of which could have been used in this chapter. If you've read 'Don't Forgive or Forget, Ever' then you may recognize the argument between Evie and Uma, but I changed up some stuff so that Uma doesn't reveal as much. As always, find me on Tumblr as kindofchaoticgood for my other Huma stuff and to cry about Descendants together.
> 
> PSA for my U.S readers:  
> Net Neutrality sucks. A lot. I'm not going to go into it on here, but if you want Congress to overturn the vote, here is what you can do.  
> -text BATTLE to 384-387 to contact Congress and stop the FCC  
> -tweet at your representatives or call them to tell them all the reasons Net Neutrality is necessary  
> -fill out one of the many online forms to ask your member of Congress to help to overturn the vote.

He can vaguely feel the sun streaming through the windows onto his bare back, but he keeps his eyes closed, because he always savors these moments, that state of being not fully awake, but not asleep. His fingers reach out next to him, and when they meet a round shoulder, a smile curls his lips -

But suddenly there is the sound of a large _BANG_ , and Yen Sid sits up straight, groping at his bedside table for his glasses, jamming them on just as a combat boot kicks his bedroom door down.

The girl next to him shrieks and jumps off the bed in a blur of brown hair. His eyes barely have time to focus before a solid, snarling mastiff leaps on the bed and digs sharp claws into his chest. Yen Sid lets out a yell of pain, trying to shove the beast-like dog off of him, but it will not budge, and a dangerous growling sound is emitting from it as he struggles.

“Down, Spot!” A girl’s voice calls, but the mastiff, who looks nothing like a Spot, growls in response, pure bloodlust in its eyes as it looks at Yen Sid.

“ _S_ _pot_ ,” the girl warns, and the mastiff reluctantly jumps off of the bed and runs up to the side of his master, eyes still fixed menacingly on Yen Sid.

Uma Triskelion scratches behind the dog’s ears and smiles coldly at Yen Sid. “Hello, old man,”

“You,” the old wizard says in horror, fingers unconsciously clutching the thick coverlet. “How did you find me?”

Uma ignores his question and instead turns to the brown-haired girl, silently collecting her clothes from the floor. “Sorry about the dog, Delia, he got a bit over-excited. If you stop by the Chip Shoppe, Bonnie should be able to give you the money, and a little extra for your trouble.”

Yen Sid can only gape as Delia tosses him a smirk and strolls out of the room, her hips swaying. Harry Hook side-steps around her, followed by a long-limbed and statuesque girl with brown hair that defies gravity. They both eye the situation inside the bedroom, and smirks spread across their faces.

“How did you find me?” Yen Sid demands, trying to pull the covers so they cover up all of his important bits.

“The girls at Madame Rosita’s are terrible gossips,” Uma replies airily, picking up a throw pillow and studying it with interest. “This is nice. Desiree, what would you say this material is, velvet or cotton alternative?” She tosses the throw pillow at the aforementioned Desiree, who shrugs and runs a hand consideringly over the stitches before stuffing it in a tattered messenger bag.

“Well, either way it's better quality than anything I've ever seen in the Isle,”

Yen Sid briefly considers making a break for the door, but Harry is blocking the door and casually running a hand over the gleaming metal of his hook. The windows are bolted, and even if he could get them undone in time, there is a dainty pistol holstered in Uma's belt and the dog is glaring at him through mismatched eyes.

“Is there a reason that you broke into my house?” He demands, trying to inject force into his voice.

“Isn't it obvious?” Uma's eyes gleam predatorily. “We're here for revenge.”

Sweat is beginning to form on his temple, and even though he is utterly naked, the bed covers suddenly feel utterly stifling. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Desiree snaps, amber eyes boring into the wizard, who shrinks back. “Did you forget the Anti-Heroes Club so quickly, old man?”

“I’m not surprised that he doesn’t remember them,” Harry says darkly. “He’s been gone for so long, you know.”

“Let me give you a reminder,” Uma flashes her left arm at him, the white-inked names shining in the sunlight. “Hermie. Eddie. Jace. Yzla. Diego. Harry. Jace. _Hadie_.”

Uma places emphasis on each name, but her voice slips for a second when she gets to her cousin’s name, and Desiree is staring at the floor to conceal the tears in her eyes. Harry makes no outward movement, but he keeps his gaze on the wizard, watching his reaction.

Yen Sid flinches with each name, the guilt making a lump in his throat. “What happened to them was terrible, but they knew what they were getting into when they joined the club, they knew the risks. I had nothing to do with their deaths—”

“You don’t get to weasel your way out of this, old man,” Uma snarls, taking a step forward as Spot growls low in his throat. “You knew that Maddy Mim and her gang were out for blood and you did _nothing_.”

“I had no idea that they would go as far as they did,” Yen Sid says pleadingly as Uma advances on him, her necklace glinting ominously in the sunlight. “I swear to you, I had no idea that they were capable of murdering children. If I had, then I would have—”

Harry lets out a bored sigh. “Excuses, excuses,” he chides at the wizard, who casts a glare at him.

“How dare you—”

“He’s right, old man,” Uma waves a dismissive hand. “Spare us your excuses, my uncle and aunt don’t like people who try to talk their way out of eternal punishment.”

Yen Sid feels his heart stutter for a moment. “What?”

Uma’s smile is cruel. “You didn’t seriously think that you could escape culpability, did you? Aunt Persephone has had a bounty on your head ever since the first death, and she is _dying_ to meet the man who got her son butchered.”

His stomach curdles. “I had _nothing_ to do with Hadie’s death,” he says weakly, as Desiree rolls her eyes and Harry lets out a derisive laugh.

“Unfortunately for you, she doesn’t see it that way.” Uma strokes the mastiff’s head. “Spot?” she says sweetly.

Spot looks up at her, ears pricked.

“Go get him.”

The dog starts slowly stalking towards him, claws clicking on the floor menacingly. The part of Yen Sid’s brain that isn’t frozen knows fully well that the dog is toying with him, and that once it gets bored, his death will be painful and violent, and his afterlife will be even worse. The only thing that he can focus on is that he cannot die like this, not in this hellhole, with three teenagers sneering at him and a dog playing a sadistic game with him. Garbled pleas bubble over his lips without permission in short breaths. “You don’t have to do this, please-”

“Actually, we do,” Desiree says, face blank.

Spot is getting closer now, and Yen Sid can smell the dog’s rank breath, see the pattern of white spots clustered around his neck in excruciating detail. A sneer is curling the side of Harry’s mouth, and Uma is watching impassively. There will be no help from any of them, and Yen Sid resigns himself to his fate. He closes his eyes -

“Although -”

The clicking stops, and Yen Sid dares to crack an eye open. Uma is holding the dogs scruff, her expression calculating as she looks at him.

“I suppose I could make your case to my Aunt,” she says slowly, as the dog strains towards him, jaws snapping. “After all, you’re not who we really want.”

Yen Sid feels his entire body go limp with relief. “ _Th_ _ank you_ ,” he begins, but Uma cuts him off.

“I wasn’t finished yet.”

He quickly shuts his mouth, unwilling to provoke the volatile girl, who could very well be the key to whether he lives for the next six months or not.

“You’ll owe me a favor,” she proclaims, stroking Spot’s head as he gives a petulant whine.

“What kind of favor?” Yen Sid asks warily.

“The kind that involves your contacts in Auradon - don’t look so surprised old man, we may be evil, but we’re not idiots, everyone can see that you’re better fed than us - tell them to find something for me.”

“I’m not helping you get Fairy Godmother’s wand,” Yen Sid states forcefully, trying to stare down Uma. He will not waver on this point. If this is what they’re doing to him, not even in his worst nightmares can he imagine the destruction that they will wreak upon Auradon . . .

“Is that so?” Uma asks, amused. “Well, luckily, I’m not asking for the wand.”

Yen Sid stares at her, confused, as Uma grins predatorily at him, still stroking Spot’s head.

 

******

 

“You don't have to do this, you know,” Evie hisses through the corner of her mouth at Ben, who is pouring milk into his coffee.

“Yes, I do,” Ben replies. He’s watching Uma and two members of her crew serve themselves at the breakfast buffet; the flame-haired girl with the silver septum piercing is piling her plate precariously high with bacon, hash browns, croissants, and pieces of fruit, while the boy with the short dreadlocks has a plate entirely dedicated to powdered doughnuts and is busily adding sausage and eggs to another plate. Uma, on the other hand, only has a single strip of bacon and a doughnut that the girl had placed there, despite her protests, on her plate. Seeing how much they're putting on their plates fills him with a despondent anger, which has been steadily growing since his meeting with Uma yesterday.

After she had left, he had tried to find the documents containing the details about the creation of the Isle of the Lost and the terms that Auradon had set down, but all that was there was a couple of papers that contained a count of all the villains in the Isle, as well as a census. When he had asked Cogsworth where he could find the documents, the former clock had turned red and stuttered for a full minute before pretending to receive a call and dashing out of the room. He had asked his mother next, but Belle suggested that he ask his father, and had told him “not to think too much on it.” But his father had been even less help.

“My son, the philanthropist,” Adam had said with a chuckle, clapping Ben’s shoulder with a paw-like hand and knocking him back a few steps. “Why are you so interested in these children anyways?”

Ben had shrugged, uncomfortable by the carefree attitude his father was taking towards all of it. “They're my people as well, Dad,”

Adam had given him a puzzled smile. “Are they really?” When Ben had stared at him, he had elaborated. “Come on, Ben, you know they aren't . . . They're _villains_ , son, they made their choices a long time ago, and they just have to live with that.”

Even now, Ben still feels a rush of anger and disappointment when he thinks back on the conversation. His father's refusal to take his quest to improve the citizens of the Isle of the Lost seriously is disheartening, and Ben is starting to think that this is all up to him if he wants change to happen.

And change starts with breakfast and a civilized discussion

Evie looks like she wants to continue arguing with him, but when the red-haired girl drops her plate down and sits down across from them, she quickly cuts her eyes down to her blueberry muffin.

Uma sits down next to the red-haired girl, and eyes Ben suspiciously. “So how is this going to work?” she asks, studying her food as though it’s been poisoned.

“After breakfast, your two crewmates -”

“Marya,” the red-haired girl chimes in.

“It’s Gonzo,” the boy growls, sliding in a chair next to Uma.

“Right, right, sorry - anyways, they’re going to be interviewed about their lives on the Isle. How much food they receive on a daily basis, their medical history, education, stuff like that,” Ben says, resisting the urge to look away as Gonzo looks straight at him and takes a seriously intimidating bite of a doughnut.

“Sounds like the stuff of dreams,” Marya comments sarcastically, tearing apart a croissant and dipping it in her hot chocolate before taking a bite.

“What will I be doing?” Uma asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll be explaining to the Council of Sidekicks how you're not a terrorist,” Evie says, her tone bordering on snide as she delicately cuts her muffin in half.

“You wanna repeat that?” Marya snarls, leaning forward, her butter knife clutched dangerously in her hand. Gonzo is also tense, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“It's fine, Marya,” Uma says calmly, her smile so sharp it could cut glass. “Evie's just being a little bitch, as usual.”

Evie glares at her, eyes narrowing to slits. “At least I’m not-”

Suddenly, a raven-haired woman in a white doctor’s coat bursts into the room. “Stop! They have to be weighed before they eat anything!”

Evie freezes, Uma looks mildly surprised, Gonzo instinctively crams bacon into his mouth, and Ben recognizes the doctor striding towards them as Dr. Melendez, one of the most renowned nutritionists in Auradon.

“Excuse me?” Marya protests, grabbing her plate closer to her. “This is the first breakfast I've ever had! Don't take that away from me.”

“I'm sorry for the interruption, your Majesty,” Melendez says apologetically, completely ignoring Marya. “But they have to be weighed before they eat anything or give testimony - it's the only way to make sure that they're telling the truth.”

Uma scoffs and Gonzo looks unconvinced. “Don't you people have magic and shit?”

Melendez scowls at him. “We're trying to move towards a less magic-focused society.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Uma mutters under her breath before saying louder. “Fine, let's go. Marya, the food will be there when you get back. Right, Beastie?”

Marya pouts and stands up, but Melendez looks scandalized. “He is your _king_!” She hisses.

Gonzo rolls his eyes, bored. “I'm not bowing down to a twelve-year old that I didn't vote for.”

Uma snickers, but quickly plasters on a blank look when Evie snaps. “You don't vote for people in a monarchy, dumbass.”

“And I’m not twelve,” Ben adds, but nobody is listening.

“Well, _fuck_ , Princess,” Gonzo drawls. “I wouldn't well know that, would I? Having never gone to school and all,” he finishes, sharing a nasty grin with Marya.

Evie blanches, and Melendez quickly steps in to take Gonzo firmly by the arm, apparently having gotten over her indignation. “We’ll start with you,”

Gonzo rolls his eyes at Uma as Melendez frog-marches him away, Marya reluctantly following them.

Melendez stops once she realizes Uma isn't following and calls.

“You too.”

Uma sighs and follows her crew out of the buffet room, hoping that this won't take too long.

Ben turns towards Evie, who scowls at him, as if to say _see what I mean_?

He sighs. This is going to be a long day.

 

*****

 

“Take off your clothes and put this on,” Dr. Melendez orders, brandishing a blue paper gown.

“Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” Marya snarks, but Melendez just gives her an unamused frown and disappears through another door to the adjoining room that Uma is in. Marya can vaguely hear Uma start arguing with the doctor and grins.

Marya pulls her black dress over her head and slips on the paper gown, shuddering at the texture. It gapes uncomfortably open in the back, but she was a stripper for two years before her dad found out, so showing off a little skin doesn't bother her.

She sits down on a chair for two seconds before getting bored and deciding to rifle through the cabinets. Inside the first cupboard, she finds a bunch of popsicle sticks inside a jar, as well as a pack of condoms that she slips into a pocket in her dress.

 _Even if we don’t get anything out of this, I can at least make some serious cash out of selling these,_ Marya thinks with a smirk, but then the door behind her opens and someone demands, “Who are _you_?”

The voice sounds angry and far too much like her father, so Marya reacts instinctively. She grabs the knife out of her boot and whirls around, pointing it straight at a red-haired man who is definitely _not_ her father, whose eyes widen as his clipboard clatters to the ground.

“What the _fu_ -”

“Peter!” Melendez bursts through the curtain. “Are you al-” she notices Marya and lets out a frustrated groan. “Are you kidding me?”

Marya shrugs sheepishly. “Oops?”

 

*****

 

“Name?”

“Gonzo,”

The interviewer gives him an unimpressed look, raising a silver-threaded eyebrow imperiously. “Your _real_ name,” he says, his tone suggesting that Gonzo's a moron.

Gonzo calmly resists the urge to shove the guy up against a wall and pour his mug of coffee into his eyes, and instead gives him a dead-eyed look that Ashe calls his 'scary-ass murder face’.

But Uma would kill him if he fucked this up for them. Hell, _he_ would kill himself if he fucked up this chance.

At the same time though, he really doesn’t want to do this. He suffered through Melendez’s horrified examination of the scars on his back, half-paid attention when she had told him that he was underweight for his height and age, and hadn’t made a single sexual comment when she was examining him. All he wants is his damn plate of doughnuts, but apparently, he has to go through some sort of fucking interview before he eats. The only reason he came on this trip is because Uma promised him food, and so far, her promise has sucked.

But at the same time, this is probably going to be the first and last time that he’s going to be able to eat whatever he wants, so Gonzo is forced to comply with the bureaucracy’s orders. (He may have never gone to school, but he's always had a knack for words.)

“Khushal Nanzari,” he replies, and the interviewer makes a note on his paper, before taking a sip of the steaming coffee beside him. Gonzo watches enviously; the aroma is at once amazing and tortuous.

“Age?”

“Don’t know,” Gonzo says, tipping his chair back to two legs. If he concentrates really hard, he can practically imagine the taste of the coffee, the way that the cream and sugar are able to bring out the smoky undertones, the slight bitterness . . .

“How do you not know?”

“My parents sold me in service to the Forty Thieves when I was a baby,” Gonzo replies indifferently, ignoring how the interviewer pales and gapes at him. “Hey, can I have a sip of your coffee? I haven't eaten anything since two days ago except for some candy.”

 

*****

 

“You’re late,” Evie snaps as Uma strides into the room with a large milkshake, the doors slamming shut behind her. “You were supposed to come here right after lunch. I was just about to give up and leave.”

“Not my fault,” Uma retorts, snagging a chair and immediately tilting it back to two legs after she sits down. “Marya pulled a knife on someone for the second time today, and I had to convince them that it was just a reflex, not a threat on anyone’s life.”

“What kind of reflex involves pulling a knife on someone?” Evie asks in disbelief, pulling a piece of lint off of her otherwise immaculate blue lace dress. Uma opens her mouth to answer, but Evie waves her off. “Whatever. I see you also decided to make a detour to go get a beverage as well?” she nods at the milkshake that Uma is currently sipping with distaste on her face.

“What? No, the doctor said I have like, undernutrition or whatever, so they’re putting me on a food regimen or some shit. Believe me, this isn’t my choice,” Uma says disgustedly, scowling at the milkshake as though it’s personally wronged her. She glances around the room, taking in the cream-colored walls and the outfit sketches pinned up on boards, some with different colored sticky notes on them. “Why am I here, again?”

“We’re here to discuss the children who would be coming to Auradon,” Evie says, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. _Trust Uma not to care about this . . ._

“Ah, yes,” Uma lets the chair fall forward with a _bang!_ that makes Evie flinch. “You have a list or something?”

Evie pulls the piece of paper out of her folder and hands it to Uma, who grabs it from her hand and starts scanning it.

As she watches Uma read, Evie can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the short length of the list. She doesn’t know many children on the Isle, but hopefully Uma knows more kids, and they can help all of them.

Dizzy comes to her mind, and she smiles, recalling the younger girl’s excitement as she had told her to pick out whatever she wanted inside the boutique.

Uma finishes reading, crumples the list into a ball, and throws it straight at Evie’s face.

“Hey!” Evie plucks the list from where it had bounced off of her face, and rounds on Uma, about ready to strangle the irritating girl. “What the _hell_ —”

But all the anger flies out of her head as she processes the look on Uma’s face. The sea witch’s daughter is looking at her as though she is something she scraped off of the bottom of her foot, and is absolutely _seething_.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Uma snarls, fingers clenching white around the glass of the milkshake.

“What?” Evie asks, genuinely taken aback.

“Do you think this sort of shit is funny or something?” Uma is standing now, and the anger in her face is terrible to behold. A cruel sneer curls her lips. “Gotta say, I knew you people were heartless, but god _damn_ , have some dignity, motherfuckers.”

“What are you talking about?” Evie demands, standing up now as well, but Uma speaks over her, voice growing louder.

“What, are dead kids funny in Auradon or some shit? ‘Cause _fuck_ , do I have some things to say about that—”

“Dead kids? You’re not making any sense!” Evie yells at the girl, her temper flaring. What the hell was wrong with Uma?

“Practically everybody on this list is _dead_ , you bitch,” Uma spits at her.

The breath leaves her lungs, and Evie feels herself stagger back a few steps. “What?” she whispers.

“Hermie Bing, Diego de Vil, Hadie, Eddie Balthazar, Jace and Harry Badun . . . There are only three people still alive on this list,” Uma snaps, shaking the list in front of her face.

Evie’s knees give out from under her and she sits down hard in her chair. Uma watches this, the dark scowl on her face fading. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“No,” she croaks out, tears filling her eyes. “How?”

Uma sits back down in her chair, and plays with the rings on her fingers absently. “You know Mad Maddy Mim’s gang? Anthony Tremaine, Ginny Gothel, and the Gaston twins?”

“We’ve met,” Evie replies darkly, remembering how Mad Maddy and her gang had tried to make her and her friends into shark bait when they had visited the Isle.

“They were the ones who murdered the Anti-Heroes Club,” Uma says, her voice devoid of emotion.

Evie claps a hand to her mouth and stares at Uma in horror. “No,” she whispers, horrified.

“Yes,” Uma shoots back. “A week after you left, Hermie Bing was beaten to death by the Gaston twins, and if it wasn’t for that stupid yellow hat she always wore, none of us would have recognized her. Jace and Harry’s bodies washed up on shore two days later, and they had bruises around their neck. Marya heard Anthony Tremaine and Ginny Gothel laughing about it in the marketplace.”

Evie wants to beg Uma to stop, insist that she’s heard enough, but her body feels frozen, and she cannot open her mouth to speak.

“Diego de Vil looked like he had been mauled when we found his body,” Uma says quietly. “His throat was torn out, and there were bite marks on his body . . . But the bite marks were human-sized, and his injuries were too neat to have been made by a wild animal. Jonas and Gonzo found Eddie Balthazar tied to a tree with at least forty arrows sticking out of him. We had Gil examine the arrows, and he told us that those were definitely ones that his family had made.”

Uma’s voice is quiet, and her eyes are fixed on a point over Evie’s shoulder. She hasn’t had to tell this tale to anyone before, and saying it all out loud makes it feel like she’s living through it all over again.

“Ginny Gothel and Maddy Mim dragged Hadie out of school,” her own voice sounds foreign to her, the words sound like someone else’s. “They hacked my little cousin to pieces and strung him up on the lantern posts.”

 _She had stared up at the shock of blue hair, up on the posts, and wondered why the hell Hadie would climb up there._ He hates heights, _she had thought, getting ready to call out to him. But then she saw that only his head was up there._

“It took us two hours to find all of the pieces.”

Evie is staring at her with a mixture of horror mingled with pity, and it pisses Uma off a little bit, because Evie doesn’t get to pity her. Not when this is her fault. To avoid looking at her, she takes a sip of the milkshake, the thick cream coating her throat.

“What happened to the other three?” Evie asks quietly. “You haven’t said anything about Yzla, Murph, or Claudine.”

_Oh look, she remembers their names!_

That thought is what accounts for the coldness in Uma’s voice when she answers. “Yzla’s in a coma. We don’t know exactly what happened to her, but it doesn’t seem likely that she’ll wake up anytime soon. Murph managed to go into hiding with his son before they ever found him—” (Evie twitches when she hears that Murph has a son, but Uma plows on.) “—But Claudine was raped by Anthony Tremaine and the Gaston twins, stabbed, and left to die in the streets.”

Uma thinks that her voice sounds far too detached as she says this, not at all conveying the fact that she still has to calm Claudine down after panic attacks, and how it’s such a struggle to get her to believe that what happened to her isn’t her fault.

Evie has tears freely flowing down her face, and she looks utterly heartbroken. “Why?” she whispers in a broken voice. “Why would they do that?”

 _I don’t know, maybe because they thought that the kids were being traitors to their heritage by following your example?_ Uma thinks, but stays silent and sips her milkshake, which has now reached room temperature.

“They were all so young,” Evie is dabbing at her eyes with a tissue that somehow managed to fit in her miniscule compact. “All they wanted was a better life—”

Uma tunes her out, because no matter what Evie says, Uma’s probably already thought it or discussed it many times over with her crew. How young they were, how useless their deaths were, what sort of revenge they should get on Maddy and her gang—

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

“What?” Uma stares at Evie, unsure whether she just had an auditory hallucination or not because she did _not_ just say that to her.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Evie asks, spots of color starting to rise into her cheeks as her voice strengthens. “You could have protected them if you knew that Maddy was going after them—”

“Excuse me?” is all Uma can choke out, but Evie plows on, her words coming faster.

“Instead you did _nothing_ , and now all of those kids are dead, and all for what? Did you also think they weren’t evil enough or something—”

“How fucking _dare_ you,” Uma snarls, and Evie falls silent, fear flashing in her eyes.

She doesn’t remember standing up, but she’s on her feet, fury is coursing through her veins, her necklace is starting to heat up against her skin, and the vitriolic words are pouring out of her mouth.

“You think this is my fault? You privileged little _bitch_ – none of this would have ever happened if you and your stupid friends hadn’t been so goddamn stupid!”

“You’re trying to pin this on me?” Evie demands, but Uma speaks over her.

“Those kids died because they helped you when you came to the Isle – and you just fucking left them there! What, did you think that Maddy would just let the whole thing go or some stupid shit like that?”

“I don’t know, how were we supposed to know that Maddy and the others would go that far—”

Her necklace burns against her skin as her temper spikes again. “We’re _villains_! Your mom tried to kill a fourteen-year-old-girl because she was prettier than her, don’t pretend that killing kids is something we struggle with!”

“Do _not_ call me a villain—”

“Tell me, did you even think about them after you went back to Auradon, or did you just go back to class the next day like nothing had ever happened?” The windows are rattling in their frames, and Evie’s eyes are wide, but Uma can’t focus on that. “No, don’t shake your head at me, I want an answer!”

Evie’s voice is shaking as she snaps. “You have no right—”

“I HAD TO TAKE THEIR BODIES TO THEIR PARENTS!” Uma roars, just as the windows burst open, glass shattering across the floor. Evie shrieks and throws her arm up over her face to protect herself as wind gusts into the room, scattering all of the loose papers on her desk.

Uma is standing in the middle of the chaos, her hair whipping in the wind and necklace pulsing with golden light. Her skin feels like it has needles slipping underneath it but she also feels truly _awake_ for the first time, which ultimately makes her even angrier though, because how dare they keep this from her?

“I had to find pieces of my cousin to take back to my aunt and uncle so they would have something to bury! While you and the ‘heroes’ were out getting fucking coffee or some shit, I had to take Hermie’s body back to her father and tell Yzma that her child was probably never going to wake up again. Tell me, does that sound like nothing?”

Evie gathers enough courage to try and hold out a placating hand. “Please, just calm down—”

“No. You want to know what I did?” Her voice is soft and deadly, and the winds are sending chills down her arms. “I sent hellhounds after Ginny Gothel to drag her into Fields of Punishment for killing children. The Gaston twins got an eye and a couple of fingers taken off of them. I let them choose which fingers they wanted and which eye they thought they couldn’t live without. And Anthony . . .” an ugly sneer crosses her mouth. “Well, you should ask Dizzy about it.”

There is definite fear in Evie’s eyes now, and it mixes with the tears in her eyes.

“So yeah,” Uma says coldly. “When you get to tell your boatswain that his boyfriend got his throat torn out by Maddy Mim, you get to accuse me of doing nothing then, okay?”

Around her, the winds swirl to a halt, and Uma suddenly feels tired beyond all belief as she staggers over to her chair and sits down. Evie is still standing, her blue eyeliner running down her face, and a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs.

Now that she can actually focus on anything other than her rage, Uma sees how the glass has embedded itself like knives into the walls, can track the path of the wind based on the way that the papers have scattered on the floor.

The milkshake is roiling in her stomach, and she wants to say something, but Evie looks utterly destroyed and anything she says will probably make things worse.

Horrible silence reigns for a minute until the door creaks open and Gonzo steps in. “Boss? It’s time to go – holy fuck, what happened?” he demands, staring at the glass shards of the destroyed windows and the papers strewn everywhere.

Evie is still silently crying in the middle of the room, and Gonzo looks kind of terrified as he looks at her, unsure of what to do. In a far-off corner of her mind, Uma finds it hilarious that Gonzo can face down an entire troupe of men intent on killing him, but draws the line at crying girls.

However, his freaked-out expression is what makes the words in her throat unstick. “We’re fine, what were you saying?”

In her opinion, her voice sounds a bit faint, but Gonzo eagerly jumps on the opportunity to stop looking at Evie in order to address her. “It’s getting late, so Ben offered to let us stay the night, but I told him that we should go back. We don’t want the others to freak out.”

Translation: I don’t trust these people not to kill me in my sleep, and also, Harry will probably have a heart attack if you don’t come back tonight, so let’s leave immediately.

Uma nods and stands up, pushing her chair back with a scraping sound that echoes in the room. She starts to head towards the door but hesitates, because Evie is still wiping her eyes, there is glass everywhere, and none of this turned out how she had intended . . .

So she says quietly. “Tell Ben not to worry about the kids coming to Auradon, okay? I’ll handle it.”

Evie doesn’t answer, and Uma takes that as her cue to slip out of the room, immediately setting such a brisk pace that Gonzo is forced to jog behind her a little in order to keep up.

She resolutely doesn’t look back, even when the door closes with a heavy thud.

 

*****

 

“Well, that was a trip,” Marya mutters through a mouthful of beef jerky. Melendez had taken one look at her muscle mass, blanched, and said she needed more protein. Peter, the nurse who she had tried to stab (it was fine, he had thought it was funny after the initial shock), had recommended jerky and now she was addicted. This was the second packet that she had ripped open, and she had stuffed seven more packets into her boots, so she was set for tomorrow. She had tried to offer Uma a piece, but the other girl had just waved her off, before curling against the seat like a cat.

“I never knew that there were so many kinds of diseases.” Gonzo comments as puts his feet up on the seat and pops a marshmallow into his mouth. “Or that I still had a splinter from the time the ship broke apart.”

Marya gives Uma a sideways glance, but she doesn’t even react, just stares blankly at the opposite door.

Truth be told, she’s getting a little worried about Uma. When she and Gonzo had first come back, Uma seemed to have brand-new shadows under her eyes, and her necklace had been glowing weakly. Marya had asked Gonzo what had happened, but Gonzo had just shrugged and ripped open a package of marshmallows.

“Dunno,” he had said, resisting the urge to cram all of the powdery sweets into his mouth at once. “I think she may have had an argument with Evie or something, and it got really ugly. Like, window smashing ugly.”

Uma hasn’t done anything to confirm or deny the story, so Gonzo’s story is the only one she has to go on. She knows better than to ask Uma what happened, there’s no talking to her when she’s like this.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Marya methodically eating piece after piece of beef jerky and Gonzo pouring chocolate fudge into his bag of marshmallows, until Uma uncurls herself from the seat, looking nauseous.

“Uma?” Gonzo asks, setting aside the marshmallows and leaning forward. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Uma snaps, but the statement lacks her usual heat, and is immediately refuted by the fact that she leans forward and throws up on the floor of the car.

“Oh shit,” Marya says hoarsely, as Gonzo stares at the viscous mess of milkshake and bile.

Uma is staring at the floor and her shoulders are starting to shake.

Marya shoves the beef jerky away and slides over to wrap her arms around Uma, just as Uma starts sobbing.

 

*****

 

“I think that today went well,” Ben murmurs into Mal’s hair, the crackling fire casting their shadows against the wall. They’re pressed together on a loveseat, and his arm is over her shoulders.

Mal snickers, and the noise vibrates against his chest. “Didn’t an entire window blow out or something?”

“Yeah,” Ben says, furrowing his brow. He’s still not entirely sure what happened in there. Evie had just told him that it was an accident, and then said that she was going to bed early. Her face had been freshly scrubbed of makeup, and she had seemed a little quiet, but when Ben had asked her what was wrong, she had summoned a weak smile and told him that it had been a long day.

“But I think that we have a real chance at convincing the Council of Sidekicks that Uma and her crew should come to the Isle. Melendez has definite proof that they’re all underfed, and Gonzo was—” Ben stops, because he still can’t imagine how someone could do that.

“Sold,” Mal says softly, taking his hand and lacing it through hers. “It’s not a common practice on the Isle, but the druggies sometimes sell their kids in exchange for a supply based on how many years they work.”

“That’s horrible.” Her hand is warm, but there is a chill settling over his skin. “How could they do that to their own children?”

Mal gives him a mirthless smile. “That’s life on the Isle.”

Firelight is casting a glow over her skin and reflecting off of the magenta streaks in her hair, and as Ben looks at her, he is once again astonished at how strong she is, despite everything that has happened to her. She had never been good enough for her mother and had been raised to hate him and everything he stood for, but she still chose to be good, and that means the world to him.

She’s looking at him questioningly, but Ben tugs her closer and she smiles up at him, eyes sparkling. Their mouths are inches away, but before his breath can even ghost over her lips, the door bursts open and Cogsworth runs in, eyes wild.

“Your Majesty,” he pants, leaning against the door and trying to catch his breath. “There – there’s been—”

“What is it Cogsworth?” Ben asks, scrubbing a hand over his face and trying not to sound annoyed. Mal has slid away from him and is looking amusedly at Cogsworth, a smirk playing over her lips.

But the smirk dies a quick death when Cogsworth manages to get the words out. “The press – I tried to stop them, your Majesty, but they’re demanding a statement on the video—”

“Video? What video?” Ben demands, rising from the loveseat.

Cogsworth fumbles for the remote lying on the coffee table and switches on the television.

Snow White is standing in front of the Auradon News Network backdrop, a grim look on her normally cheery face.

“—Has reached over three thousand views within the first hour and is only gaining momentum. Over here at ANN, we are now going to show a clip from this harrowing scene—” Snow hesitates, and Ben notices how her voice shakes slightly when she says. “Warning: parents may want to take children out of the room in order to see this video.”

The video starts playing, and all Ben can do is watch in growing horror as his guards plunge a syringe into Uma’s neck and then push children up against the wall with their guns as older crew members try to shield them with their bodies. When the guards point the guns at Harry Hook and a boy that Ben vaguely remembers from his time on the Isle, there is a ringing noise in his ears and his feet feel rooted to the floor.

The video ends with the picture of the boy with his hands up, a terrified look on his face. The thumbnail moves to the side of the screen, and there is the faint shimmer of tears in Snow White’s eyes as she says. “Even now, reporters are waiting to see what King Ben’s response to the video will be, considering that it was filmed using a body camera—”

The television goes silent, and Cogsworth turns towards him, face pale and finger still pressing the mute button. He looks green, and Ben can’t blame him.

Mal has her hand over her mouth, and she looks as though someone has just punched her in the stomach.

Ben is still standing in the same position he was in at the beginning of the video. All the muscles in his body seem to have locked up, images from the video keep on playing in his head, and the only thing he can focus on is one of Mal’s favorite phrases, which has never been more apt than right now.

_Shit just hit the fan in a big way._

 


	5. You Can be the King, but Watch the Queen Conquer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Part of Ariel wants nothing more than to bundle up all of her children and stash them away from the world forever, but the bigger part is telling her to keep it together, because she has two very young children in the room and one very traumatized girl to take care of."  
> -  
> “Where the fuck have you been?” Ursula snarls from the floor, taking a swig out of a bottle of cough syrup.  
> Uma just rolls her eyes and pries her mother's tentacles from her throat so she can talk. "Hello Mother,"
> 
> *****
> 
> Or, in which the Disney Princesses grapple with the consequences of the video, and Uma's scheming takes a backseat to family matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry!
> 
> Exams kicked my ass, and life and five-hour bouts of fencing tournaments got in the way of writing time. However, this chapter is also pretty long, so I hope I've made up for it.

Ariel, Queen of Seaside, former princess of Atlantica, is curled up on a couch and reading a story to her children before she receives the call.

 

Callie and Storm are sandwiching her, their heads pillowed on her sides. Storm is trying valiantly not to fall asleep, but he keeps nodding off, and then awakening with a start. Callie is also fighting a losing battle with sleep; her sandy eyelashes are fluttering over her cheeks.

 

Melody is pretending not to listen, but Ariel can clearly see that her phone screen has long gone blank. Moana is making no such pretensions; the girl from Motunui is listening with an enraptured expression. She has never heard the mainland fairy tales, and treasures each story that she hears each night. Once, when Melody had tried to pull her away to go watch a movie, Moana had waved her off and insisted, “Melody, these stories are wonderful! I don't care if they're for little kids, I’m staying!”

 

Melody had protested, but Moana refused to budge, and Melody had at first gone off on her own, but eventually came back, setting herself down on a chair with a sulky scowl. Callie had flung herself into her older sister’s lap while Moana and Ariel exchanged amused glances. 

 

Eric is usually there for story time as well, but tonight is his meeting with the leaders from Maldonia and Dunbroch. Technically, this is his night to read to the children, but she's happy to take over for him. King Fergus is notoriously heavy-handed with the ale, and Naveen and Eric get along like a house on fire, so it's going to be the early hours of dawn before her husband makes his way home.

 

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Flounder’s aquarium buzzing in the corner and Ariel's voice, until her phone starts playing the theme from  _ Hamilton _ .

 

Storm mumbles a complaint against her side, and she pats him absently on the head as she reaches for her phone and checks the number on sees Jasmine’s name flit across the screen.  _ She wouldn’t call this late unless it was important _ , Ariel thinks, sliding the Call button. “Hello?”

 

“Turn on the television,” Jasmine’s voice is tense. “And after you’re done, come to Agrabah. We’re convening an emergency meeting of the Council.”

 

“Jaz,” Ariel says, alarmed. “What’s going—”

 

“Watch first,” Jasmine orders, then hangs up.

 

“Mom?” Melody is standing now, and Moana has half-risen out of her chair as well, a worried look on her face. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m not really sure,” Ariel confesses, reaching for the remote on the coffee table and switching the television on. Snow White’s face fills the screen for a moment right before a video starts to play.

 

As the video goes on, Melody flinches when the guards and the children start to fight, and Moana looks horror-stricken when the Auradonians point their guns at the two boys. Ariel only stares at the screen, but her hands are covering the eyes of her children, who are starting to squirm around in complaint.

 

When the video ends and the news feed comes back on, Moana blinks hard, and tears fall down her cheeks. “What was that—” she begins, but her voice breaks halfway through.

 

Ariel is already on her feet, and her mind is racing a thousand miles. Part of her wants nothing more than to bundle up all of her children and stash them away from the world forever, but the bigger part is telling her to keep it together, because she has two very young children in the room and one very traumatized girl to take care of. “Mel, I need you to take Callie and Storm to your room. Try to get them to sleep, but if they don’t, then just have Carlotta look after them. I need you and Moana to try and find Eric right now, he’s probably already heard about this, and we need to figure out what our statement is going to be. Take Sebastian with you, he’ll have some input in this as well—”

 

“Don’t I need to attend the Council meeting as well?” Moana asks thickly, wiping her eyes. “As the representative of the Islands—”

 

“No,” Ariel says firmly, walking over to her as Melody starts to lead Callie and Storm out of the room. “You need to have Carlotta make you a hot chocolate and cuddle with your pig for a while. I’m not going to let you go to the meeting when you’ve just seen -  _ that _ .”

 

“I’m fine,” Moana protests. “I - I was just shocked, that's all. I'm fine now-”

 

“No, you're not,” Ariel counters. “You just saw a room full of children being threatened with guns. No one is fine.”

 

Moana’s eyes, usually so bright and full of life, look absolutely shattered, and Ariel hates that, hates how the girl’s worldview has just been shattered by that act of cruelty. She wraps her arms around her, and feels Moana's frame shake under her. It saddens her, but mostly enrages her, because how  _ dare _ Adam and Belle let this happen in their kingdom?

 

“Listen to me,” Ariel says quietly, pulling back slightly to look Moana in the eye. “Your parents appointed me your guardian while you tour the Realms, and as your guardian, I’m telling you to stay here until we figure out what's going on in Auradon.”

 

_ I refuse to put her in danger. _

 

Moana sighs shakily and disentangles herself from Ariel. “Do you think there's any chance that it could be a mistake?”

 

Once upon a time, Ariel would have said yes without hesitation. She would have defended Belle and insisted that she would never let something like this happen. But she hasn’t spoken to Belle in two years, and she is no longer the naive little mermaid who believed the best in people.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

*****

 

When the car screeches to a halt, Uma is up and out of the car before Marya and Gonzo even have a chance to process that the car has stopped moving.

 

_ I cannot believe that I cried like a little dick in front of them. What the hell is wrong with me? _

 

Her skin feels itchy and too hot for her body; she isn't entirely sure if those Auradon bastards poisoned her or not with that stupid milkshake, but she wouldn’t put it past them. She's sure Ben has had an entire team of lawyers interrogate him about the exact wording of his vow to find all the loopholes. After all, if she is poisoned, it wouldn't have been Ben harming her, it would have been Melendez.

 

Uma grits her teeth and storms through the doors to the Chip Shoppe, Marya and Gonzo lugging the limo’s entire supply of food behind her. (Note to self, she is a dick for not helping.)

 

As soon as she steps through the doors though, an eggplant-colored tentacle wraps around her throat and lifts her into the air, cutting off her air supply.

 

“Where the  _ fuck _ have you been?” Ursula snarls from the floor, taking a swig out of her ever-present cough syrup bottle. Her other tentacles are writhing dangerously and her eyes promise absolute murder.

 

But Uma just rolls her eyes, and pries a few suckers from her throat so she can talk. “Hello, Mother.”

 

“Don’t fucking try to change the subject with me, you little slut,” Her mother slurs the last three words, so they come out more like  _ yalitleschlut.  _ “I  _ asked _ you a fucking question.  _ Where have you been? _ ”

 

Instead of answering, Uma casts her eyes around the room. Her mother must have opened up anyways, despite the fact that she sent Cook home today and had the closed sign up. Luckily, there aren't many people, only a few people at the tables and one over at the bar/counter area. 

 

Thankfully the kids seem to be gone; Desiree and Murph must have taken them outside once her mother made an appearance. Ursula isn't exactly above strangling a child who isn't quick enough to get out of her way, and she especially hates her nieces, who make up the bulk of the children that hang around the Chip Shoppe at any given time.

 

Her crew is scattered around the room; Ashe and Claudine are in the middle of serving customers, all of whom look terrified, which means that Ashe must have shouted them into submission. Jonas and Reggie - what the fuck is Reggie doing here? She told him to go home and look after his brothers - are behind the counter, pretending that they know how to cook. Sierra is casually covering the sword check with her body while Gil and Bonnie are sweeping up the floor. Bonnie is handling the broom while Gil tries to sweep up the dust, but he keeps on sneezing and scattering dust everywhere again. Marya and Gonzo are quietly edging along the wall, trying not to draw attention to them or the large amount of food that they're carrying. Everyone is studiously avoiding looking at her or her mother. 

 

Except for Harry, who is outright glaring at Ursula, despite the purple-black bruises forming on the left side of his face. And from her current position in the air, she can clearly see bright red sucker marks around his throat.

 

Blood roars in Uma's ears, but she forces herself to remain calm, because losing her temper will just make things worse, and she really doesn't have the fucking time to get into a screaming match with her mother right now, she needs to turn on the television and see if her plan is working. At the same time though, part of her is screaming for her to grab the knife in her boot and fillet the bitch. (She's never claimed to be rational when it comes to Harry.)

 

“School,” Uma lies coolly, making sure not to move too much. Her mother's grip is tight, but Uma knows that Ursula doesn't give a damn about dropping her. 

 

“School,” Ursula repeats, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “That's interesting, considering today is Sunday.”

 

_ Fuck, the one time she looks at a goddamn calendar! _

 

“Is it?” Uma asks, trying to keep her tone bored. “Well then, I guess that's why it was closed.”

 

“Maddy Mim mentioned that she saw you over by Yen Sid’s house,” her mother accuses, cinching her tentacles tighter in an unspoken threat.

 

From the corner of her eye, Uma catches a glimpse of purple hair and sees Morwenna Mim curled under a table. She jerks her foot discreetly and the younger girl looks up at her, revealing a cut lip, which stretches out as she grimaces at Uma. Uma closes her eyes, irritated beyond all belief because  _ fucking Maddy Mim _ just doesn't know when to stop, does she?

 

She’s let Maddy live for this long because her grandmother is still a scary motherfucker, despite being a thousand years old, but Maddy just keeps on coming back like a V.D. Claudine and Morwenna still haven't given her permission to kill Maddy yet, and while Uma respects Claudine's views and the fact that Maddy is Morwenna’s sister, she's just going to have to kill her at this point. Not just for Claudine's sake, but for Morwenna's. Every time the younger girl comes back with a new scrape or bruise, Uma has to restrain herself from telling Harry to bring her Maddy's head.

 

“Come on Mama,” she croaks out instead, letting a smirk drift across her face. “Are you seriously gonna listen to a Mim instead of your own daughter?”

 

There is dead silence in the Chip Shoppe as Ursula’s bloodshot eyes run over her, and Uma can practically see her mother weighing whether it’s worth it to press this further. Her mother doesn’t have a particularly long attention span, and she knows for a fact that that tent dress she’s wearing is new, so Ursula probably doesn’t want to wash blood out of it just yet. She meets her mother’s gaze evenly, willing her body to exude indifference.

 

After what seems like an age, Ursula unwinds her tentacles from around Uma’s body and unceremoniously dumps her on the floor. But Uma has had a lot of practice falling by now, so she mostly manages to take the brunt of the impact on her side before rolling up and drawling, “Thanks.”

 

“Get to work,” her mother commands, tone surly as she heads towards the door. “I don’t want to see your face again until morning. Do not even think about closing up, I will find out and I promise you, you will regret it.”

 

With that lovely parting remark, Ursula slithers outside and Uma lets out a heavy sigh, briefly putting her head down to try and control her expression before standing up and yelling.

 

“Alright, bitches, show’s over! Get out now, and I’ll let you keep your wallets.”

 

“But your mom said you couldn’t close!” Kellan Stabbington protests, his red-haired cohorts grunting in agreement.

 

Uma rolls her eyes and pulls her pistol out of her left boot, firing two shots into the wall behind Kellan’s head. “Do I look like I care?”

 

Luckily, the other customers quickly take the hint and exit quickly, but Kellan still looks like he wants to say something stupid. After a dark look from Harry, he realizes that he’s severely outnumbered and strides out of the Chip Shoppe huffily, not noticing Morwenna quietly snatch his wallet. 

 

Uma stashes the pistol back in her boot. “I told you to stay home,” she snaps at Reggie, who has the gall to look unashamed. 

 

“Jonas told me your plan,” he says, grin crinkling the freckles on his face. “Are we really going to Auradon, boss?”

 

“If we get our shit together, yeah,” Uma mutters, then says loudly. “Move your asses, people! Jonas, stop cooking and go get Desiree and the kids back. Reggie, Sierra, I need you to make a list of kids on the Isle including our crew.  Marya and Gonzo can split the food up among all of you. Gil, turn on television and start taking notes on what's happening. I want a full report by the time I get back.”

 

“Where’re you going?” Gil asks, already looking alarmed at the prospect of responsibility.

 

“To set myself on fire,” Uma growls. Now that her mother's gone, she can acutely feel where the sweat has dried on her clothes and she's either about to cry again or scream if she stays here any longer. “I smell like a do-gooder.” She starts to head up the stairs to the flat above the Chip Shoppe, then pauses to yell over her shoulder as she catches sight of Harry helping Morwenna up from under the table. “And can someone get those two some medical attention?!”

 

Harry makes a move to follow Uma as she storms away, but Marya blocks his path. “I wouldn't do that right now,” the fire-haired girl warns. “She's been in a mood since Auradon.”

 

“She's always in a mood,” Harry retorts, trying to push Marya aside, as Bonnie grabs his arm and forces him into a chair.

 

“This time it's different,” Marya replies uneasily. “She . . . Threw up on the way back.”

 

Harry's gaze snaps up to hers. “Was it on . . . ?”

 

“I don't think it was on purpose,” Marya says quickly, and Harry looks like a giant weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “She mentioned the other day that she was seven months without an incident and seemed really proud. I don't think if she was that happy about it she would you know . . . Fuck it up.”

 

Harry considers all of this as Bonnie shows up with an ice pack and presses it firmly to his face. “Motherfucker,” he finally mutters, glaring at the floor.

 

“Did she eat anything?” Bonnie asks, handing the ice pack to Harry and starting to examine Morwenna's face. 

 

A look of panic came over Marya's face. “I can't actually remember,” she confesses sheepishly. 

 

Harry groans and Morwenna rolls her eyes. “Some help you are,” the younger girl snipes.

 

“She may have had a fight with Evie or something,” Gonzo says, walking over and handing Morwenna a large bag of gummy worms, which she tears into instantly. “When I came in to get her, the windows were shattered.”

 

“What the fuck?” Bonnie twists her head to stare at Gonzo, still trying to force a struggling Morwenna to stay still.

 

“Yeah, but here's the thing: Uma's hands weren't bloody and neither were Evie's. So I have no idea what the fuck happened-”

 

“Gil, stop flirting with Claudine and turn on the goddamn TV when I tell you to!” Uma descends down the steps like a storm, already having changed into an oversized flannel shirt that clearly belongs to Harry and leggings. Her hair is pulled up, and there is a thunderous scowl on her face.

 

Claudine blushes furiously and starts playing with her hair, while Gil turns bright red and mumbles something about how he wasn't flirting, Uma, God, and goes over to the television to turn it on.

 

The dim clamor in the room slowly stops as an image of Jonas with his hands up fills the screen.

 

*****

 

Ariel manages to catch a last-minute portal to Agrabah after sending a series of quick texts to Eric to warn him about Melody and Co. 's impending arrival as well as an explanation about where she's going. As she steps through the portal door, her heart is hammering wildly in her chest and her skin feels feverish. Portal traveling is the absolute worst generally, but after what she's just seen?  _ So _ much worse.

 

The Portal opens out to an ornately decorated hallway and Ariel has to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the sheen of the gold surrounding her. Jasmine obviously sent a servant to go get her, because there is a young woman in front of her with an earpiece and a harried expression.

 

“Queen Ariel?” She asks desperately, fiddling with the stack of bracelets on her arm.

 

“That's me,” Ariel replies politely, trying not to make any sudden movements. The woman seems like she might burst into tears at any moment, and Ariel doesn't want to startle her.

 

“Right this way,” the woman takes off at a clip down the hallway, and Ariel hurries after her, silently cursing herself for not changing out of her heels earlier.

 

“They're in here,” the woman points at the door and Ariel walks in, bracing herself for anything.

 

There are several televisions clustered on one wall, all blaring at full volume but broadcasting different channels. Unlike the gold splendor of the hallway, the walls in here are painted a simple cucumber color, with comfortable armchairs and a sofa scattered on top of a creamy carpet. A white desk with two large computer monitors crouching on it and two matching cabinets next to it are facing the same wall as the televisions, along with a high-backed chair. There is a hallway leading out to a small kitchenette, and through it, Ariel can see Tiana furiously slamming dough on a board, flour sticking to her curls.

 

Jasmine is pacing around the room, her cerulean hijab whirling wildly. She's muttering angrily under her breath in Persian, arms gesturing wildly in a silent argument with an invisible foe. Ella is leaning against a wall, focusing intently in the centermost television, face drawn. Pocahontas is sitting next to Aurora, one hand resting protectively on her bump while the other holds Aurora close to her. There are tear tracks down Aurora’s face and her phone is clenched in a white-knuckle grip in her hands.

 

“Welcome to hell!” Jasmine exclaims once she catches sight of Ariel. “Don't linger in the doorway, come in and suffer with the rest of us!”

 

“What's going on?” Ariel asks cautiously, entering the room and sitting on an armchair.

 

“Adam and Belle arrived in Auradon just now, but my father still refuses to let me give a statement to the press until 'we have all the facts’. What the hell is that supposed to mean? There’s a video, we  _ know  _ what happened,” Jasmine’s voice is rising and she looks about ready to kill someone. “Al’s on the phone with the Prime Minister right now, they’re trying to convince my dad to let me give a statement. I had to leave the room, I was about to start throwing things if I heard Dad say ‘give them a chance to explain’ one more time.”

 

Ariel winces. “I’m sorry, Jaz.”

 

“Whatever, I’m over it,” Jasmine strides over to the desk and presses a side button, making a vanity mirror rise up from the middle, along with a selection of makeup. She unscrews a bottle of eyeliner and continues. “I’m going to give the statement even if Al and the PM can’t convince him. It’s just a matter of how angry he’ll be at this point.” Her hand moves the brush steadily across her eyelids, movements precise even though she is clearly agitated.

 

Ella sighs. “At least you can do something. My father-in-law and Rory’s parents are refusing to do anything.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” Ariel turns, horror stricken, towards Aurora, who lets out a sob against Pocahontas’s shoulder. “Why?”

 

“Because he’s an awful human being who cares more about keeping the trade agreement between Montcavrel and Auradon alive than about children almost getting shot,” Ella snaps out, fingers fiddling with the large diamond solitaire on her ring finger. “Kit got into a shouting match with him, and they were still arguing when I left. Meanwhile, Rory’s parents are insisting that everything is fine and that this is all propaganda.”

 

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Pocahontas calls out grumpily, still stroking Rory’s hair. 

 

“Believe me, I know,” Ella sighs, sharing a commiserating look with Ariel.

 

Rory looks up, eyes full of tears. “Those kids are so young, and they look so scared . . . and I know it’s stupid, but every time I see them, I just think that it could have been Audrey being shot at . . .”

 

“No one would dare lay a finger on Audrey, Rory,” Jasmine says quietly, turning around in her chair to face the room. “She’s royalty.”

 

“I know, Jaz, but I’ve been calling her nonstop and she isn’t picking up her phone. Her phone is practically attached to her hand, why isn’t she answering?” Rory asks, tears starting to slip into her voice again.

 

Jasmine has nothing to say to that and an uneasy silence falls over the room for a few minutes until Tiana appears from the kitchenette, two plates of beignets in her hands.

 

“You know,” she says quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. “I can't help thinking that this is our fault,”

 

“We couldn't have known that this was going to happen,” Ella protests, but her tone is half-hearted.

 

“Didn’t we though?” Tiana asks, her voice distant. “After what happened with Ursula, we  _ knew _ that they were capable of sentencing innocent children to die.”

 

She looks away from the televisions, tears falling down her face. 

 

“Face it,” Tiana murmurs bitterly. “We knew that this was coming, but instead of doing anything about it, we just sat by and pretended that nothing was wrong.” Her voice is breaking, but her tone is freezing. “And now, because we did nothing, children are getting shot at.”

 

Abruptly, she places the plates on a coffee table and heads back to the kitchenette, the door slamming shut behind her.

 

*****

 

In a rare stroke of luck, Uma's mother hasn't come back and fucked up all of her schemes, so she and the rest of the crew are able to work, undisturbed. Reggie, Gonzo, and Murph are talking in low voices in a corner, drawing a crude map of the Isle in preparation to leave once Claudine finishes the list of people to come to Auradon. 

 

“Damn Auradonians,” Ashe grumbles, scowling as she examines the smears of ink across her left hand. “We’re doing their job and they don't even give a damn about us.”

 

“I can't believe they didn't know that the kids were dead,” Sierra whispers, glancing around to make sure that her sister and Uma's cousins aren't paying attention to her. “I knew they didn't care about us but - goddamn.”

 

Uma shrugs, shifting Lala (one of the aforementioned cousins, currently playing with a tattered stuffed animal) in her lap. “When she told me she didn't know, I honestly didn't know if it was better or worse.”

 

“Worse,” Ashe and Harry say in unison, Jonas nodding in agreement.

 

“There's no use in cursing them out now,” Claudine studies the list on top of the table, absently doodling on a corner. “We just need to focus on getting as many people out as possible.”

 

There is a murmur of agreement about the table, but Harry still looks like he wants to argue with someone, so Uma quickly yells over to Gil, “What's happening in Auradon?”

 

“They aren't letting the press in,” he calls back, stuffing his face with fried rice and eggs. “Also, they mentioned something about the King not giving a statement yet,”

 

“Fu- I mean, figures,” Uma manages to catch herself after Lala looks up at her curiously. “They're probably still trying to figure out a way to play this off.”

 

“Bitches,” Ashe mutters, then lets out a startled yell when Jonas jabs an elbow into her side. “What  _ fucking _ gives?”

 

“Ashe said a swear word! She owes us candy!” Lala announces to her two-year old sister, Talea, who glances up for a moment, before continuing to play with the buttons on Harry’s jacket.

 

“What have I told you about swearing in front of my sisters?” Jonas hisses at Ashe, who scowls at him unrepentantly.

 

“By that age, kids have seen orgies—”

 

“Screw  _ you _ —”

 

“Can we please focus?” Sierra cuts in, but then Desiree appears at the table, holding a wailing baby and looking harried beyond all belief.

 

“It's your turn to take Poppy,” she shoves the baby unceremoniously into Jonas's arms as he lets out a noise of protest.

 

“I'm busy!”

 

“I don't care! We agreed this morning, I would take her during the day, and you take her at night. And wow, look at that, IT'S NIGHT. So you will take your baby sister Jonas, because I am going to make up for all the sleep I wasn't able to get last night.” With that, Desiree storms upstairs, the stairs creaking in displeasure.

 

“So who has suggestions for names to add to the list?” Claudine asks, raising her voice to be heard over Poppy's crying. 

 

“Rick Ratcliffe,” Jonas suggests, standing up from the table and starting to walk around, pillowing Poppy's head on his shoulder.

 

Uma wrinkles her nose. “Isn't his dad a racist?”

 

“Yeah, but I don't think he's about that ‘whiter than thou’ stuff that his dad's always going on about. I mean, he looked embarrassed when his dad accused me of being a drug-selling negro trying to corrupt his son,” Jonas says nonchalantly, whispering something soothing to Poppy.

 

“Jesus,” Harry says disgustedly.

 

“To be fair though, I was in the middle of selling him some weed, so I see where he was coming from.”

 

Claudine carefully pens in Rick Ratcliffe's name. “Anyone else?”

 

“That we don't hate and isn't already either related to us or in the crew already?” Sierra asks sardonically, then turns serious. “I think we got everyone. I mean, we even asked the kids for names, and they listed out everyone they had ever met.”

 

At that moment, Jia, Sierra's little sister, chose that moment to wander up to the table and pout at her sister. “Si-Si, I’m hungry.”

 

“Go ask Bonnie or Marya for more food.”

 

“They already gave it to people.”

 

“Then that's tough, little sister,”

 

“You can have my food,” Uma offers, pushing her bowl of broth towards Jia.

 

“ _ No _ ,” Harry says instantly while Ashe shoves Uma's bowl back towards her and Claudine shoots her a quelling look.

 

“That won't be necessary,” Sierra says quickly. “Jia, we don't have any food. Just go steal Talon’s food or something.”

 

As soon as Jia heads over to her brother, Harry rounds on Uma. “Stop doing that,” he accuses, somehow managing to look intimidating, even with a two year old on his lap.

 

Uma looks immensely frustrated. “Come on, there is no way that I am going to be able to eat all of this—”

 

“I don't care,” Harry cuts her off. “Stop trying to get rid of your food.”

 

“And stop trying to pawn it off on the kids,” Sierra adds, scowling at Uma. 

 

“Are you saying that they don't need to eat?”

 

“I'm  _ saying _ that you need to eat, because we need you alive, Uma Triskelion, so pick up the damn spoon and eat your broth.”

 

There's a dark look on Uma's face, the one she gets right before she verbally destroys someone, so Claudine intervenes. “Just a few more spoonfuls, that's all we’re asking.”

 

For a few seconds it seems like Uma isn't going to do anything, but then she reluctantly sips a spoonful of broth, making a face at all of them. “Happy?”

 

“Ecstatic,” Ashe says dryly. “Girl, you can't be mad at us for wanting you to eat—”

 

“Holy shit - Uma!” Gil vaults over the table and starts frantically turning up the volume on the television. “The press just broke through the gates!”

 

****

 

The text messages from her mother and father say basically the same thing.  _ Stay put. Comply with everything they tell you to do. We're handling this. _

 

Lonnie has never been one for just sitting down and letting things just happen without her say. When Ben had been kidnapped, she had insisted on going with Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos to rescue him, and when it seemed like Agrabah and China were about to come to blows over their trading outposts, she had been the one to initiate diplomacy. 

 

But she has no idea how to even  _ begin _ handling this.

 

King Adam and Queen Belle - sorry,  _ former _ King and Queen - had showed up, stone faced, to Auradon an hour ago. Fairy Godmother had rushed up and the three of them had had a hushed discussion before Adam had thrown up his hands and yelled, “I don't care, Verity! Just handle it!” He had then stormed off in the direction of the Royal Offices, but not before curtly ordering Lumiere that nobody was to disturb them. When Evie had tried to follow them, Belle had gently told her to go stay with the students, before following her husband, skirt swishing on the floor. 

 

Fairy Godmother had stared after them for a few minutes, before visibly gaining her composure and announcing gravely that all students were to go inside the common rooms and wait inside until further notice. She suggested that they all text their parents that they were safe, but that they wouldn't be able to contact them anytime soon because effective immediately, Auradon Prep was on lockdown.

 

This had drawn gasps and people had started demanding answers, but they received none. Instead, all of the students had been ushered into common rooms by grade, and the doors had been locked securely behind them.

 

After the doors had been closed behind them, Jay instantly tried to open them again, and then cursed when they didn't budge. He had been dragged over to a couch to sit down by Carlos and the two of them and Evie had entered into a hissed conversation, occasionally gesturing at the doors. Jane sat by them, listening and occasionally whispering something as well.

 

Strangely enough, only a few other people seemed to find the lockdown odd. In a corner, Audrey, Jordan, Ally, and a group of other girls were painting their nails and gossiping about the new coach of the swim team - “He’s  _ so _ dreamy!” “I know!” - while Chad was telling anyone who would listen that this way, they were guaranteed a night off from homework. All around Lonnie, people were pulling out decks of cards or just leaning against the walls and chatting. No one seemed the least bit concerned.

 

But all of that had changed once Mal walked through the doors, looking absolutely shell-shocked.

 

“M?” Evie stood up and rushed towards her best friend. “What’s going on?”

 

The purple-haired girl seemed to be in a bit of a trance though. It took Evie repeating her name three times for Mal’s eyes to focus on the room, and Lonnie noticed that there was nervous, prickly energy all around her.

 

“I - it’s bad, E,” Mal said haltingly, eyes darting around at everyone. “It’s really bad, and I don’t think anyone knows what to do—”

 

“What’s bad?” Jay was standing now, and Carlos was half-risen from his seat as well. “What’s going on, Mal?”

 

“Turn on the TV,” Mal said faintly, sinking into a chair. “It doesn’t matter what channel - the video is everywhere at this point.”

 

Carlos had switched on the television, and nothing had been the same after that. 

 

No one is playing cards anymore; the cards are lying abandoned on the floor, while the participants, stare at the TV, their faces pale. Chad is no longer laughing; he had actually snapped at someone to shut up when they had dared to suggest that they turn the television off and do something else. Carlos looks sick to his stomach, and Jay looks queasy as well. Evie and Mal are having a whisper-fight in the corner of the couch, and Mal is shaking her head obstinately at what Evie is saying. Ally and Jordan are having a hushed conversation that Lonnie can only hear snatches of, (she heard the words ‘highly illegal’ and ‘racial profiling’ being used by Jordan though,) and Doug is furiously scribbling notes on what the news reporters were saying. Audrey is staring at a wall, her face utterly blank. When she had tried to answer her mother’s calls, her cell signal had failed, and that was when they had all realized that all communications in and out of the castle were blocked until the lockdown was over.

 

“We can see what’s happening, but we can’t send or do anything,” Doug muses grimly, flinching when the camera zooms in on the children being backed to the wall by guns.

 

“They can’t just keep us in here,” Lonnie declares, because, well, they  _ can’t _ , right?

Doug looks unconvinced. “I have a feeling that they would disagree.”

 

“My mom’s not answering any of my texts,” Jane says worriedly, holding up her phone. “I have no idea when we’re going to be let out of lockdown.”

 

“That’s just—” Jay begins, but they don’t get to find out what it is, because someone says, “Hey Lonnie, isn’t that your mom up there?”

 

Lonnie whips her head so fast towards the television that her neck cracks uncomfortably, but sure enough, it’s her mother onscreen, looking utterly cool and collected in her black suit and her jet-colored hair in a high ponytail.

 

“When did they let the press in?” Chad demands, looking furious. “They’re keeping us prisoner in here while the paparazzi fawns over them?”

 

“I wouldn’t say they’re fawning over them, Chad,” Jane says slowly as reporters rush up to Mulan, who is currently walking down a hallway.

 

“Fa Mulan! Fa Mulan! Can we get a comment on the shocking video that was just released?” One lady asks, thrusting her microphone into Mulan’s face and nearly smearing her red lipstick everywhere.

 

“Some people are calling this a racial matter. Do you think that’s true, or does this purely have to do with them being villains?”

 

“What do the king have to say about this, and as Consul General, how does that affect your point of view on the matter?”

 

Lonnie watches, as her mother leans into the microphone, her voice calm and reasonable. “I think the video was appalling. No child deserves to have a gun pointed at them, whether or not their parents are villains.”

 

“People are saying that the children refused to comply—?”

 

“Even if the children didn’t comply, those guards still had a choice of whether or not to use violence to deal with the situation. The guards are adults, and they should have known better than to  _ ever _ point a loaded firearm at children who can barely walk. I think that the bigger picture is that we have guards that have no qualms about shooting children due to who their parents are, but at the same time, I do think that race has a factor in all of this, and that is a very troubling thought for me, especially since I have two kids of my own.”

 

Lonnie feels her mouth quirk up, and her mother continues. “As for how the king’s opinion on the matter and how that affects my opinion as Consul General . . . well, as of five minutes ago, I just resigned from my position, and therefore, the king’s opinion has no bearing on my own.”

 

Mulan gives the press a tight smile and says, “No further comment,” before continuing to walk down the hallway, the reporters chasing after her and demanding for clarifications on her resignation.

 

Evie's mouth is in a perfect 'O’, Jay is staring between her and the TV,between her and the TV, dark hair whipping back and forth, and Jane’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. Audrey has stopped staring at the wall, Chad is gaping at her, and Mal looks frustrated beyond all possible belief.

 

Lonnie smiles uncomfortably at all of them, not used to being the least surprised person in the room. “Does anyone want to play poker?”

 

*****

 

“Oh my God,” Claudine whispers. “Did that really just . . .?”

 

“It did,” Gonzo confirms, though he looks like he can’t quite believe it.

 

“What an icon,” Ashe says, her eyes wide.

 

“Sierra? Are you okay?”

 

Uma glances over. Sierra is staring at the television, hazel eyes unfocused. She’s muttering something under her breath and her face is unreadable.

 

“Sierra?” Bonnie repeats, her tone starting to get concerned.

 

Sierra lets out a long groan. “How the  _ fuck _ am I supposed to live up to that?”

 

“ . . . What?”

 

“Come on! Fa Mulan just gave up her job for us! All of my life, my father has told me; ‘Remember, Shaoyen, it is no use being like me. I was defeated. Instead, be like the girl who outsmarted me. If you can be like her, then I can die a happy man’. Well, I can’t be like Fa Mulan, because she is too much of a damn legend. Do you see my problem?”

 

“No, not really.”

 

“Sierra, none of us speak to our parents anymore,” Harry reminds her, rolling his eyes.

 

“Shut the fuck up, my life is  _ over _ ,” Sierra moans, collapsing on a chair and burying her head in her hands.

 

Gil and Ashe shrug at each other, bewildered, but go back to paying attention to the television. 

 

Uma leans back in her throne and surveys the room. The Chip Shoppe is filled to the brim with people now, some of them sitting at tables, some leaning against the wall, and the little kids are running around gleefully. Gonzo is teaching Morwenna how to clean her blade properly, while Murph is chasing his son around, trying to convince him to go to bed. Her cousin Piper is comparing knife sizes with Sierra's brother Talon, (ha, that's  _ gay _ ) and Bonnie and Desiree are fussing over Jonas's hair. Meanwhile, Harry has his makeshift tattoo parlor set up on the longest table, and is carefully tattooing anchors on their brand-new crew members. Rick Ratcliffe has challenged Nia to an armwrestling contest, but judging by Nia’s sneer and the amount of sweat pouring off his face, he’s regretting this decision. However, Nia’s sister Allegra is eyeing Rick with great interest, so maybe the night won't turn out so bad for Rick after all.

 

She herself is on Poppy duty; the baby is finally asleep, no thanks to Jonas, who kept yelling at his other sisters and waking up an increasingly cranky Poppy. Finally, Jonas had passed Poppy onto her, and after a few minutes on her shoulder and no yelling, the baby had fallen asleep.

 

Harry finishes up a tattoo on La Foux Deux, and the smaller boy thanks him before scampering off to try and flirt with an uninterested Ashe.

 

Uma carefully makes her way over to him, careful not to jostle Poppy too much. The bruising on his face has gone down, but his face is an interesting mix of purple and green. His jacket is off, revealing bandages on his right arm. When she had demanded to know what had happened, he simply told her that he had gotten a tattoo sleeve, nothing to freak out about. She believes him, but she knows exactly what happened to his face.

 

“You have to stop doing this,” she orders, sitting down across from him. 

 

Harry gives her an innocent look. “I don't know what you mean, darling.”

 

“I thought I told you to stay out of my mother's way. She already hates your guts, and seeing you just makes her even more pissed off.”

 

He gives her an unimpressed look. “I'm not staying away from you just because your mum has anger issues.”

 

Uma scowls at him. “It also doesn't help that you keep on antagonising her every time you see her,” she gestures to his face.

 

“Alright, this time it wasn't my fault. She was the one who threw me into a wall first.”

 

“I don't care,” Uma snaps. “I can't worry about you getting hurt by my mother. There's too much at stake here for me to get distracted.”

 

A slow grin plays across his face. “If I didn't know any better, I would say that you cared what happened to me,”

 

“I'm serious.” The lack of mirth in her tone makes the smile tilt off his face. “We have a real shot at getting into Auradon. For the first time, the cards are in  _ our _ favor. And I need all hands on deck, especially you. I can't always be here, so I need you to look after them.”

 

Harry nods, eyes fixed on her. “I know, love. I won't let you down.” The conviction in his voice is real, and she feels calmer as she reaches across the table to take his hand.

 

“Good.”

 

*****

 

“I do not care if they are villain children, they have rights, same as every other citizen of Auradon,” Jasmine hisses at King Hubert, fighting to keep her voice level. On his other side, Snow White is fighting a smile and the Auradon News Network anchors are exchanging baffled glances, wondering how the conversation got so off the rails.

 

“Go  _ off _ , Jasmine,” Pocahontas beams at the television, taking a delicate bite of her beignet. Next to her, Tiana just smiles and shakes her head. Her eyes are still red, but after composing a succinct, but brutal condemnation of Auradon that Maldonia had released as its official stance on the video, she seems to be less furious. Mulan’s public resignation had helped to improve the mood of the room as well, and they are all getting a lot of joy out of watching Jasmine debate King Hubert, who has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Ariel catches Tiana’s eye, and they both grin at each other before turning their attention back to the television, where the aforementioned King’s face is growing steadily redder.

 

“Now see here young lady-” King Hubert blusters, but Jasmine corrects him, tone icy.

 

“Sultana.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, you poor fool,” Rory sighs, watching her father-in-law resignedly.

 

“I am the Sultana of Agrabah, your Majesty, and you would do well to address me by my proper title.” 

 

“I’m sure his Majesty didn't mean to give offense, Sultana,” one of the news anchors interjects, and Ariel can clearly hear Ella wince from the other side of the room, and she wants to bang her head against the wall because that is _ not _ how you pronounce 'Sultana’. “Besides, can we really claim that the villain children are entitled to the same rights as us? After all, that girl did initiate the fighting.”

 

“Yes, because the guard refused to take his hands off of her, even when she asked,” Snow retorts, then claps a hand over her mouth, blushing crimson as everyone stares at her in disbelief.

 

“You know you're a bad person when you get Snow White, the nicest person in the Realms, to tell you that you're wrong,” Pocahontas declares, fingers flying across her phone. 

 

“What are you doing?” Ariel asks, eyeing her phone suspiciously. 

 

“Posting that to my StoryTime followers,” Pocahontas replies breezily, just as a  _ swoosh _ noise echoes through the room, signaling that the upload has been successful.

 

“To add on to what Snow said,” Jasmine says on-screen, casting a smile at her friend, whose face is still bright red, “I don't know about all of you, but I’ve told my children many times that they are  _ never _ to go anywhere with someone they don't know. It doesn't surprise me that the girl punched him in the nose, I’m rather surprised she didn't punch him earlier.”

 

“Are you seriously trying to play this off as a case of Stranger Danger? I think that shows a severe oversimplification of what happened-”

 

“Of course it's not Stranger Danger, but still, her actions are understandable for someone in her position-”

 

“There they go again,” Rory says wearily as King Hubert starts arguing with Jasmine again, with the two news anchors desperately trying to stop them. Next to her, her phone is vibrating so violently that it's threatening to fall off the table, but she ignores it.

 

“Aren't you going to get that?” Tiana asks, casting a wary glance at the phone.

 

“Absolutely not,” Rory scowls at the phone, which looks strange on her normally cheerful face. “It's my mother again. I'm not picking up until Audrey calls me.”

 

Ariel frowns. “She still hasn't called you back?”

 

“No, and logically, I know she's okay, but I cannot keep listening to my mother insist that everything is fine, when clearly, it isn't!” Rory's tone is bordering on hysterical, and inwardly, Ariel thanks the gods that she and Eric refused to let Melody attend Auradon Prep.

 

“It’ll be okay, Rory,” she says outwardly, trying to inject a soothing tone into her voice. “Whatever I may think of Auradon, they’d never lay a finger on Audrey. Like Jaz said, she's royalty. She has nothing to do with this. As for your mother-” she pauses because Queen Leah is a menace at best, and at her worst – well, that's too scary to think about. “Actually, I can’t really give you any advice on that front—”

 

“Oh, I know,” Rory sighs miserably, wiping her eyes. “I was just about to tell her about my conversion to Buddhism before I got the call, and the first thing she said when she saw me was; ‘where’s that lovely diamond cross your father and I gave you’?”

 

“Rory!” Ariel stares at her friend in horror, who winces and cringes back. “You’ve been a Buddhist for six months now! Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t told your mother yet?”

 

“I know!” Rory wails. “I’m a schmuck, I admit it, but you know my mother Ariel! She’s insane!”

 

“True story,” Pocahontas calls over, balancing the plate of beignets precariously on top of her bump. “No offense, Rory.”

 

“None taken,” Rory says sadly as Ella gives her a sympathetic smile.

 

“Chad isn't texting me back either,” she says quietly, then groans. “Dear  _ God _ \- now I'm saying it too.”

 

“It's a very catchy nickname,” Tiana suggests tactfully.

 

“Oh, don't give me that! He has a perfectly lovely name, why would he want to be called a name associated with a drunken frat boy?”

 

“You're asking the wrong people,” Pocahontas shrugs. “Personally, I like the name Chance. It's poetic!”

 

“Exactly! And he used to think so as well!” Ella's face hardens. “This is my father-in-law's doing, I just know it. He’s always hated Chance’s name, something about it not being 'masculine’ enough. And now, thanks to him, my son sounds like a drunken jackass you avoid at parties!”

 

“Wasn't he the one who suggested that you send him to Auradon Prep?” Ariel asks.

 

Ella rolls her eyes. “Yes. And now because of 'diplomacy’ and 'strengthening the bond between our kingdoms’; I can't speak to my son!” She leans back in her chair, looking exhausted. “Thank God we sent Adele, Dexter, and Lainey to different schools.”

 

“Agreed,” Ariel and Tiana murmur.

 

Pocahontas strokes her belly. “All of this has just confirmed my initial inclination not to send little Minnow to Auradon Prep, no matter how much King James pesters me.”

 

Tiana side-eyes her in horror. “Are you seriously naming the baby Minnow?!”

 

“No! Give me some credit, T, I don't want the kid to grow up to be some sad emo child in a corner-”

 

They're all laughing when the news anchor announces, “This just in - we are about to go live to Auradon, where King Ben will be making an official statement on the video-” 

 

That brings their laughter to an immediate halt. Ella straightens up, Rory and Tiana already have their eyes glued to the screen, and Pocahontas is already switching off her phone, in order to have no distractions. Ariel just turns it on silent though, because she has a feeling that even with the insurmountable evidence, Auradon will never admit anything they did was wrong.

 

For them, those children are just collateral damage. 


	6. I Want to Be in the Room Where it Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought that I would be able to go up in front of the cameras and give a statement like nothing was out of the ordinary, but I was wrong. I can’t pretend that what happened didn’t happen.”  
> -  
> “I’m taking as many people off the Isle as I can. As long as I say that they’re part of my crew, then the Boy King will have to take them in.”
> 
> Or, in which Uma and Ben struggle with diplomacy and their own agendas as tensions reach all-time highs on both sides of the barrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. It's been a while, and honestly, most of that is due to school, which has been kicking me down a flight of stairs since March. This chapter just refused to be written for the longest time and Ben was just hiding out in my head for most of the time, instead of on the page, like he was supposed to be doing. There won't be another stretch like this one, I promise. I have most of the next chapter planned out, and everything else after this should come easily.

 After Princess Rapunzel of Corona sends a scathing message about how the trade agreement between Auradon and Corona is officially dissolved, Ben’s father stands up and shouts, “That's it - everyone out!”

The Royal advisors chitter nervously among themselves, and Ben glances up from his desk, but it is Fairy Godmother who speaks up. “With all due respect your Highness, I don't think that's wise—”

A furious growl rips through Adam's throat, making Ben flinch. “Do _not_ tell me what to do, Verity—”

“ _Adam_ ,” Belle says sharply, swiftly putting herself between the pale headmistress and her husband. “Calm down.” She turns towards the advisors, who are all looking petrified. “Please excuse his Highness, but we really do need everyone to leave right now. Verity, you may stay.”

The Royal advisors bow sloppily and rush out of the room, practically knocking each other over in their haste to leave. Ben eyes them longingly, he wishes _he_ could leave.

For the past two hours, they’ve been barricaded inside the Royal Office, trying to figure out a way to ‘control the situation’ (Adam’s words). Ben hasn’t been able to do much except sit at his desk and give a few monosyllabic responses to Fairy Godmother. He cannot seem to draw his eyes away from the screen every time the video plays. He cannot shake off the image of the looks of terror in the eyes of Uma’s crew as they face off against the guards, or seem to get rid of the sound of the rifles clicking off their safety.But there is also something else nagging at him, something that makes him desperately uneasy. Uma’s face keeps flashing up in his head; the way she had looked absolutely emotionless while breaking that guards nose . . .

“Control your goddamn friends Belle,” Adam snarls, stalking away from his wife and bringing Ben back to the present. As he leaves, Fairy Godmother moves to the other side of the room, putting as much space between herself and the former Beast as possible.

“I haven't spoken to Jasmine in six years,” Belle snaps, and Ben can see her normally calm composure starting to fray. “I haven’t spoken to many of them in years. What exactly would you like me to do here, Adam?” Her voice is frigid, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Do you want me to send them a letter politely asking that they refrain from bashing us due to a situation that  _you_ created?”

Adam turns a furious shade of red, but Ben interrupts before his father can come up with a retort. “Stop!” He orders, getting up from behind his desk. “None of this is helping anything.”

“The king is right, your Highnesses,” Fairy Godmother pipes up, having gained back her confidence. Her face is still pale, but she manages to stand her ground. “We cannot fall apart now, protesters are still flooding the front lawn, and we have to make a statement to the Realms—”

“Exactly,” Ben says, fingers absentmindedly drumming on his desk. “I already have half a speech in mind, I figure I can finish the rest of it in another five minutes and be ready to present it as soon as possible-”

“You, write a speech?” Adam shakes his head at his son. “Absolutely not. We’ll have the royal speechwriter prepare you a statement and then you will read it off to the press. There’s no need to strain yourself over an unimportant thing like this.”

Ben frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t be wasting time trying to appease the rabble outside,” Adam insists, casting a dark glare at the window, through which protesters carrying signs like **Kids Shouldn’t Be Shot At** and **_Serve and Protect, Not Threaten Children_** are clearly visible. “The speechwriter will write a speech, and maybe at the end, you can add in something perfunctory, like ‘we hear your concerns’.”

There’s a faint nauseous feeling in Ben’s stomach now. “So we’re basically going to say nothing?”

“Well, it is the oldest trick in the book,” Adam jokes, but when he sees Ben’s disapproving face, he sighs and goes over to him. “I understand where you’re coming from, son, I truly do. But we cannot capitulate to the rabble. If we imprison Hendrys and his unit, then we’ll be signaling to the rest of the Realms that we let the mob rule us. We cannot show weakness, not at a time like this.”

“But—” Ben protests, but his father is already signaling for the royal speechwriter to come in, Fairy Godmother is fussing over where to put the cameras, and his mother is looking down at the mob, a tiny frown tucked into the corner of her mouth.

Ben groans and goes back to his desk, the nauseous feeling getting stronger in his stomach. As usual, his parents have completely taken over.

 

*****

 

Uma can feel her eyes threatening to close, and honestly, she doesn’t have the energy to try and blink the sleep out of her eyes. All she can do is just lean heavily against her chair, Poppy warm and asleep against her chest.

She hadn’t slept well last night, her mind was too loud, and no amount of tossing and turning could make the voices in her head shut up. So she eventually just got out of bed and started writing on a scrap piece of paper. The first thing she wrote down was the exact wording of what Ben had said to her during his meeting, and all the possible loopholes she could think of.

One of the only things that she had ever learned from her mother was that you always needed to have a signed contract of a deal, that way you could find all of the loopholes hidden in the fine print.

All Ben had given her was a spoken word promise, but given that he had sworn on the River Styx, she would give him a pass on that one.

Next, she wrote down what had happened in the Chip Shoppe after she had gotten knocked out, about the kids having guns pointed at them, and how Jonas and Harry had nearly gotten themselves shot.

(As she was writing that one down, her hand was shaking, and afterwards, she had crawled back into bed and reached blindly for Harry’s hand, fingers seeking his pulse.)

(The sudden movement had woken him up and he had muttered sleepily, “What are you doing, love? Come back to bed.”)

(Hearing his voice calmed the shaking in her hand, and she was able to brush her lips against his knuckles and whisper, “In a minute,”)

She had written down all the gruesome and bloody revenge fantasies in her head for the soldiers that had dared to threaten her family, scribbled a few out for being too ludicrous, (throwing someone to the hyenas and then feeding them by hand to a crocodile seemed like overkill) and then added some more to replace the far-fetched ones. (Rendering the flesh from someone’s bones and then selling their flesh as meat to their family was much more her style).

As the weak rays of sunlight had begun to stream into her room, Uma had figured out a way to get her revenge on Yen Sid, call out Auradon, and put the pressure on Ben to do something immediately, in case he was going to try and dick out of the agreement.

Even now, as she’s half-asleep, the memory of Yen Sid’s whimpering and pleas bring a smile on her face. A few weeks ago, the old wizard had made the mistake of drunkenly confessing to one of the girls from Madam Rosita’s that Auradonian guards had cameras on their armor, that way they could get rewarded for doing good deeds. Jazzy had told Delia, who had told Bonnie, who told Uma, and Uma had filed that knowledge away in her head for another time. Uma had ordered Yen Sid to call his contact in Auradon and have them steal the videotape from the guards cameras and release it online. Yen Sid had pleaded with her and tried to appeal to her better nature, but Uma had just laughed at him.

“Do you have any idea what you have just done?” Yen Sid had whispered in horror, clutching his beard. “You have thrown Auradon into chaos and ruin.”

Uma had rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of the plan, buddy.”

Her plan had worked out better than she could have ever imagined. The video had gone viral within minutes of its release, and Auradon still hadn’t figured out who had leaked the video. A surprising amount of people had rallied to their side, and even some of the Crown Princesses and Queens of other Realms had expressed their support.

Apparently, people weren’t big fans of guns being pointed at children, who knew?

(A bitter part of Uma wonders how they were fine imprisoning children with a bunch of murderers and rapists on an island made of garbage, but she kept her mouth shut, because she had bigger fish to fry).

Uma glances up at the television blearily, and she can see people on the front lawns of Auradon Prep, waving signs and shouting at the castle. The sight makes her smile, and her eyes close –

“I swear to Black Jesus, Harmonia, you are getting on my last nerve-” Jonas bellows from somewhere in the room.

Her eyes snap open, all thoughts of sleep banished to the back of her mind as Nia snaps back, “You don't control me, asshole!”

Uma forces her sleepy limbs to move and clambers off of the throne, making sure to keep a hold on Poppy. She weaves around different people and picks her way carefully to the back of the Chip Shoppe, where Jonas and Nia look about ready to kill each other. Surrounding them are their sisters; Piper and Allegra are sitting next to each other, worried expressions on their faces. Madi, Lala, and Talea are curled up on a blanket on the floor, sleeping soundly. Desiree is watching from the side, a grim expression on her face. When she sees Uma, she makes a motion for her to stand to the side and not interfere.

“You stupid idiot,” Jonas hasn't noticed Uma yet, all of his attention is focused on glowering down at his sister. “This isn't your decision to make. You're coming with us and that's final!”

Nia glares up at him, smoke-rimmed eyes smoldering with fury. “That's not your fucking decision to make.”

“Nia, what are you gonna do if you stay anyways?” Allegra demands, shaking off Piper's arm when she tries to quiet her. “If you stay here, you're a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Stay out of this, Allie!”

“I told you, it's _Allegra_!”

“This literally does not matter,” Jonas informs them coldly, before pinning Nia with a dagger gaze. “But Allegra's right, Nia, do you really want to stay in this shithole with Ma, of all people?”

Nia's voice goes flat, and she seems to shrink into her patchy denim jacket. “Better a shithole than a place where they point guns at kids.”

Uma's stomach is sinking, and Jonas looks like he's been punched in the face. In a shaking voice, Desiree quietly says, “Nia .  . .”

Nia swipes at her eyes. “Don't tell me it's not true.” Her voice is bitter and her words are clipped. “If we go to Auradon, then we are going to a place where the people who are supposed to protect us would rather see us dead. Tell me,” her voice is breaking, and oh gods, she is too young to be worrying about this. “That that doesn't scare you? They pointed guns at our baby sisters!”

Desiree looks heartbroken, Allegra is sniffling quietly, and there are tears sliding out from under Piper's glasses.

Nia turns to Jonas, practically in tears. “And they would have shot you, Jonas,” she whispers. “What if some Auradonian idiot decides your number is up and shoots you?” Her voice is taking on a desperate, hysterical quality. “I don't want to bury you, Jonas, I can't, I can't do it!”

Sometimes, while she's in one of her dark moods, Uma wonders why the revolution is all up to her, why _she_ has to be the one to fix everything. After all, she's only sixteen god-damned years old. Why can't Jonas or Bonnie or even Harriet be the ones to lead the Isle?

But then moments like these happen, and Uma remembers why it is all on her.

She doesn't have anyone to look after, or anyone who depends on her for survival. Jonas, Desiree, they have too much to lose. They have to look after their siblings and protect them. All of Uma's brothers and sisters are dead, she has no one.

As much as Jonas and Desiree might support her cause, she knows that their first priority is the kids. They won't risk their sister's lives.

And Uma can't ask them to risk theirs.

So she slips back into the crowd before Jonas or Nia see her, each footstep feeling like she is sinking further into the ground.

In a corner of her mind, she vaguely notes that it's a goddamn miracle that Poppy has stayed asleep this entire time.

“Uma?” Somehow, Gil is in front of her, and by the look on his face, this isn't the first time he's said her name. “Are you okay?”

She looks up at him dazedly, and opens her mouth to tell him she's fine, but there's bile rising in the back of her throat and _fuck_ , she can't throw up again today -

The doors to the Chip Shoppe burst open and Uma turns around, already in the process of handing Poppy to Gil, because she's pretty sure her mom's about to beat the shit out of her, and she doesn't want Poppy hurt, but when she turns around, it's not Ursula's dark eyes that meet her, but the azure eyes of her first mate -

But this isn't Harry.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Harriet Hook flashes a smile at her that's all teeth and not-so-gently grabs Uma's collar. “Let's have a chat, shall we?”

Uma doesn't have enough strength to resist, and so she lets Harriet drag her, wondering how things could possibly get more fucked up.

 

*****

 

“Sire?”

Ben glances up, not sure if he's even heard anything. The voice is barely above a whisper, and he wouldn't discount auditory hallucinations at this point.

“Your Majesty!”

He glances around and nearly jumps out of his seat when he sees Lumiere's face so close to his. The former candle looks serious and drawn, a complete opposite of his normally cheerful expression.

“What is it?” Ben whispers back.

“You need to come with me,” Lumiere whispers urgently.

Ben frowns and cracks his knuckles. “Can it wait? I’m kind of in the middle of something here—”

An indelicate snort interrupts Ben. “Forgive me Sire, but are you really?” Lumiere asks, his perfectly plucked eyebrows arched.

Ben glances around, a little shamefaced. Adam is arguing with the speechwriter, at one point forcefully yanking the tablet out of the other man’s hands so he could demonstrate how to properly write a speech, and his mother is quietly talking to Mrs. Potts, drinking tea. After Ben’s father had started lecturing the speechwriter about the correct usage of noncommittal phrases, Mrs. Potts had discreetly pulled out a small bottle and poured a few drops into their teacups, and now their faces are a bit rosier than usual. The cameramen are busily setting up their equipment around the Royal desk, and they’ve already moved everything they’d deemed “non-essential” to the broadcast, like his picture of Mal and the truly hideous paperweight that she had made for him in art class. They had replaced those things with a stack of books that had enough dust on them to choke an elephant, and a quill and ink set, despite Ben’s protests that no one had used quills since the eighteen hundreds.

“No,” Ben sighs, and gets up. “Let’s go.”

True to form, as he and Lumiere slip out of the room, no one in the room notices his absence.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks as Lumiere leads them down the hall and presses an inconspicuous knob on the wall, opening up a passageway.

“Meeting a friend,” is his only cryptic reply before they enter the dimly lit passageway and then Ben is too distracted by dodging spider webs and trying not to breathe in the scent of mildew to ask for further clarification.

After they’ve walked for ten minutes, Ben sees a light up ahead and for a second, he seriously wonders whether he died while he was walking.

The fact that he hears the voices of arguing girls doesn’t make him think that he’s any less dead.

He must’ve said some of this out loud though, because Lumiere gives him a pitying look before pushing him out to meet the voices.

“I’m telling you Mer, you have to pick Evander, the two of you are obviously crazy about each other – Ben!”

A blur of black and coral pink rushes at him, nearly knocking him backwards. When Ben can finally breathe again, he’s met with the sight of aqua eyes, onyx hair, olive skin, and a huge smile that looks achingly familiar . . .

“You’ve grown up so much!” the girl exclaims, circling around Ben. The two girls behind her don’t seem as enthused about his presence; the one with wildly curly red hair and freckles has an unimpressed look on her face and the brown-skinned girl in an orange crop top and flowing sailor pants is looking at him like he might pull out a knife at any moment.

Ben tries to offer a smile. “Do I know you . . . ?”

The dark haired girl laughs. “Do you really not remember me Ben? You literally wrote me a song when we were little; _how do I love thee, my sweet_ —”

“Melody?” Ben says in astonishment, and Melody laughs up at him, nose crinkling. He sweeps her into a proper hug, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. “Oh my God! I haven’t seen you in like, five years!”

Melody grins and tucks a strand of hair behind her multi-pierced ear. “I know, and I kept thinking to myself that I had to message you on LiveStory or something, but I kept getting distracted and—”

“Hi,” the red-haired girl inserts herself in between Ben and Melody and sticks out her hand. When Ben takes it, he feels the calluses on her palms and fingers, as well as the cool metal of her rings. “Merida of DunBroch.”

Ben freezes. “Wait. The Merida? As in the best archer in all of the Highlands? The girl who bested all three of the Scottish heirs?”

A faint smile tugs at the girl's mouth. “Aye, that I am.”

“Wow. I mean, wow. It's incredible to meet you your Majesty. I'm a big fan.” Ben is well aware that he is babbling and is even more conscious of the fact that Merida is eyeing him amusedly, but he can't seem to stop himself.

“This is Moana, future Chieftainess of the Scattered Islands,” Melody cuts in, right before Ben can make a bigger fool of himself and ask for a picture.

Moana smiles, but Ben doesn't miss the way her eyes track him warily as he bows. “It's an honor to meet you, your Majesty.” She drops into a curtsey, never taking her eyes off of him.

“Oh - no, we don't do that here,” Ben waves her up, feeling uncomfortable. It's always made him uncomfortable, the bowing and curtseying. It makes him feel too self-important.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, trying to distract himself from his thoughts.

Melody shrugs easily. “Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Ben gives her an odd glance. “You have strange timing for social calls.”

She ducks her head and grins. “Okay, you got me. I wanted to see how you were doing, especially with all this going on.”

Ben feels a knot he didn't even know he had unravel in his shoulders. “You’re the first person who’s asked me that,” he admits.

“What?” Melody frowns. “Oh, Ben, that sucks.”

Ben tries to smile. “Such is the life of a king, am I right?”

“Ah, but you’re the only king here,” Merida says with a sharp smirk. “The three of us aren’t getting our queendoms anytime soon.”

“Mer,” Melody admonishes. “Play nice. But seriously, I know it can’t be easy, going through all of this. It must hit really close to home.”

Ben gives her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“After seeing that video, now the villain kids know that if they do anything considered ‘wrong’, they’re in danger, and the minority students are probably also terrified, given that most of the kids in the video were minorities—”

“No, I don’t think that Mal and the others are that worried about themselves.” Ben says, shrugging.

One of Moana’s brows arches and she shares a quick look with Merida, who sighs and crosses her arms.

Melody gives him a doubtful look. “Are you sure? Because I know if I were them, I’d be pretty wary of any guard right now—”

“But, I mean, Mal and her friends don’t have anything to worry about though,” Ben argues. “They wouldn’t do anything wrong. They’re good now.”

Moana looks incredulous. “I don’t think those five-year-olds in the video were doing anything wrong either when those guards pointed guns at them.”

“What’s going to happen to those guards?” Melody asks quickly before Ben can even come up with a response for that. “I mean, whatever you do will be met with protests, but just remember; you’re doing the right thing. What those guards did was completely inhumane, and you shouldn’t feel at all guilty for giving them capital punishments—”

“Who said I was going to give them capital punishment?”

The words fly out of Ben’s mouth before he can think, but as soon as he says them, he realizes that was the source of all his inner conflict within the past few hours. Do these men truly deserve capital punishment?

But by the horrified looks on the girl’s faces, they don’t agree with him at all.

“Um,” Melody says eloquently. “What?”

“I mean, yeah, what they did was completely wrong, but I don’t think that they deserve capital punishment.”

“They pushed children up against the walls with guns.” Moana says slowly, like Ben isn’t understanding. “They attacked _teenagers_.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that capital punishment might be a bit harsh, okay? And it’s not like Uma and her crew were blameless either, they did attack the guards first—”

“Because they put their hands on her!”

“I just think that it’s difficult to say what we would’ve done in that situation, because when the stakes are that high, all you want to do is get back home to your family and you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens—”

“Oh my God, I called it,” Merida says, eyeing Ben with disgust. “He’s a yuppie.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ben, you can’t seriously be telling me that you think that what those guards did was justified,” Melody’s eyes are wide.

“It was too harsh, I agree, but I understand how they thought that that might be the correct form of action to take—”

“Stop!” Moana holds up a hand and physically takes a step back from him. “I can’t hear any more of this - this _trash_. Melody has always talked so highly of you, and I was so excited to meet the king that was willing to take a chance on villain children.” She rounds on Ben, brown eyes furious. “But now I just feel sorry for you. Those guards had a choice, your Majesty. They could have chosen to not draw their weapons and instead use non-lethal force. But they didn’t. Instead, they chose to bring guns into a place full of children, and beat them. You say that the villain kids were threatening them and that there were extenuating circumstances?” She leans forward, fists clenched. “Those children are fed garbage and live in squalor. Are you really going to stand there and tell me that there was no other way that those guards could have gotten out of that situation?”

Ben flounders for a response, and Moana smiles bitterly. “That’s what I thought.” With that, she strides out of the room, her pants swishingaround her ankles.

Merida follows after her, saying sardonically. “I would say that it was nice to meet you, but I’m not in the business of lying to others.”

She disappears into the passageway, and then Melody and Ben are left alone. Melody is staring at the ground, fingers pulling her bracelet tight around her wrist.

“Melody,” Ben starts, but Melody shakes her head.

“Don’t, Ben, just . . . don’t.”

And then she’s walking towards the passageway, shoulders drawn in on herself, and as her footsteps echo, Ben can feel the knot come back with a vengeance into his shoulders.

 

*****

 

“This is stupid.”

“Shut your whore mouth.”

“Harry, seriously, Uma or Harriet’s gonna turn around and see us and then—”

“Gil, seriously, I need you to shut the fuck up,” Harry snaps, twisting his head to try and read his sister’s lips.

Gil groans and shifts Poppy in his arms. The baby had startled awake when Uma had unceremoniously handed her off to him, but hadn’t cried yet. Instead, she keeps staring up at Gil like she doesn’t know whether to cry or not.

Gil is utterly terrified of this baby.

Harry ignores Gil’s shifting and tries to edge closer to where Uma and Harriet are sitting. On one hand, he doesn’t want to get too close so they can see him; but on the other hand, _he cannot hear a single fucking thing that they’re saying_.

When Harriet had first stormed into the Chip Shoppe and grabbed Uma by the collar, Harry had shoved Rick Ratcliffe aside and nearly trampled over the Smee twins (wait, when the hell did they get here?) in his haste to get to them. “What,” he snapped, yanking Harriet back and stepping between her and Uma, “do you think you’re doing?” Uma took a few steps backward, eyeing them both warily and waving Gil off when he tried to give Poppy back to her.

“Back off, Junior, this is between Uma and me,” Harriet had retorted, shoving him aside.

“Like hell I’m letting you drag her off,” Harry put himself between Uma and Harriet again. He hadn’t seen Harriet in a couple of months, and he was shocked to find himself looking her in the eye. All of his life, he had been shorter than Harriet, but apparently not anymore . . . “You can’t just barge in here—”

“Harry,” Uma interrupted, and Harry turned back to look at her. She had her hands pressed to her eyes, and when she opened them, he could see the black flecks from where her mascara had rubbed off. “Leave it.”

“But—” he protested.

“Listen to your captain, little brother,” Harriet advised, taking Uma by the elbow and leading her to a table. When Harry made to follow them, Harriet stopped him with a finger to the chest. “Bitch, where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Harriet gave him a saccharine smile. “You think you have a say in the matter.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Uma snapped, pulling her arm away from Harriet. “Harriet, stop tormenting Harry. Harry, go wait with Gil, he looks like he’s about to drop Poppy.”

He gave her a pleading look, but she gave him dagger eyes and jerked her head at Gil before walking away, Harriet close on her heels.

Growling under his breath, Harry turned around and was met with the sight of Gil holding Poppy with his arms outstretched, holding her under her armpits. When he saw Harry looking at him, he mouthed desperately; _help_!

That had been fifteen minutes ago, and Uma and Harriet were _still_ talking.

“What the bloody hell could they be talking about for so long?” Harry growls whines.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Gil sighs. “Can we please talk about anything else?”

“Listen, if you think I’m going to just sit here while my sister threatens my g- I mean, Uma - then you have another think coming, mate!” Harry threatens, advancing on Gil menacingly with his hook.

Gil bats his hook away like a feather (curse that damnable Gaston strength!). “Would you calm your shit? Uma can handle herself.”

“Aye, but Harriet’s off her rocker,” Harry says, widening his eyes for emphasis.

“Must run in the family,” Gil mutters, but when Harry gives him a dangerous look, he backtracks. “Look—”

“NO, THIS IS ABOUT YOUR STUPID PLAN AND HOW YOU’RE PUTTING ALL OF US IN DANGER!”

Harry makes an immediate break to the table where Harriet and Uma are sitting, Gil trying to follow him and keep a steady hold on Poppy at the same time.

Uma and Harriet are facing off of each other across the scrubbed wooden table; Harriet looks about ready to attack Uma, and Uma is curled up in her chair defensively, looking like a snake ready to strike.

“I really don’t see what this has to do with you,” Uma hisses, dark eyes glittering venomously. “You’ve never cared about anyone else but yourself and your crew before.”

Harry tries to take a step forward to Uma, but Gil grabs the back of his shirt in his fist.

“You stupid idiot,” Harriet seethes, leaning across the table like a panther. “Do you think this is a game? The Beast will kill us all, and Auradon will celebrate him for it.” Her lip curls. “Did you really think you had a chance in hell at escaping the Isle?”

Gil still has a tight grip on Harry’s shirt, but his attention is torn between holding Poppy securely and holding Harry in place, so when he glances down to make sure Poppy wouldn’t slip out of his arms, Harry takes the opportunity to shrug himself out of his coat and stealthily make his way to Uma’s side.

Uma glares at Harriet balefully. “At least I did something. You never even tried.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to put my crew at risk! Apparently, it’s a sentiment you don’t share—”

Uma’s eyes narrow to slits. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ —”

Meanwhile, Gil has realized that Harry is gone and is freaking out, frantically trying to wave him over while Harry ignores him.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Harriet jibes, then leans back in her chair with a dark scowl. “I don’t even know why I’m trying with you, we’re all going to be dead in a couple of hours.”

“WHAT?!”

At that, even Poppy stops squirming, and Gil and Harry slowly look at Uma.

Uma is staring at Harriet incredulously, disbelief written across her face. “Are you fucking insane?” she manages to choke out. “Where did you hear that?”

“Uma, they were about to shoot _five_ year olds!” For the first time, Harry sees the desperation in his sister’s eyes, the way her hands keep twisting the rings around her fingers. She’s scared, and trying not to show how shaken up she is. “If those bastards were willing to kill little kids, imagine what they’ll do to us!”

Uma’s gaze is dark and calculating, and Harry can practically see her thinking. “No,” she finally says. “They won’t do anything.”

“And how the fuck could you know that?” Harriet demands, raking her black curls out of her face. Miraculously, neither of them have noticed Harry or Gil yet, which Harry would like to keep that way, because he’s suddenly remembering all the times that Harriet or Uma have tried to dismember him for trying to sneak up on them.

“Because I made a deal with him,” Uma replies coolly.

Harriet rolls her eyes. “Honey, I really don’t think that the Beast will uphold any deal you made with him—”

“Not him,” Uma interrupts. “With his son.”

Harriet stares at her, icy eyes widening infinitesimally. “What did you do?” she asks suspiciously, and Jesus, this is the exact tone she used on him and Calista Jane when they were children, and Harry wants to bang his head against a wall just so he can stop  _feeling_ things.

“I didn’t do anything,” Uma says, and her eyes have that familiar spark, that spark that promises chaos and lights a small fire in Harry’s chest whenever he sees it. “He was the one who made a vow on the River Styx to not harm any members of my crew.” A sneer breaks out across her face. “I didn’t even have to say anything.”

Harriet’s eyes are narrowed, but she seems to be considering what Uma is saying.

Uma leans forward, her nails drumming the table. “I’m taking as many people off the Isle as I can,” she says quietly. “As long as I say that they’re part of my crew, then the Boy King will have to take them in.” She pauses for a second, as if trying to find the right words. “You could come too.”

Gil is still far from the girls and he keeps trying to beckon Harry over, but Harry keeps on drifting towards them, unable to stop himself.

When Harriet looks at Uma, there is a quick flash of some unidentifiable emotion (or rather, something Harry can identify, but won’t, to protect his sister’s reputation as a badass) before her eyes harden. “No thanks.”

“Are you fucking serious?” comes out of Harry’s mouth before he can even control it. Uma turns around and gives him a glare that can’t decide between exasperation or fury, but his sister is just straight-up trying to set him on fire with her eyes.

From behind him, he can hear Gil face-palm, and as the two most important women in his life glare at him, Harry considers the fact that this might, _might_ , have been a terrible idea.

 

*****

 

It’s ten minutes until they’re on air, and Ben has no idea what he’s going to say.

People are bustling around him; a makeup artist is brushing something on his face with a tickly brush, Cogsworth is yelling at the camera crew to “Get back you heathens, he is your _king_!”, Fairy Godmother is rearranging the objects on his desk, and his father is still arguing with the speechwriter.

The makeup artist finally finishes on his face and steps back, and then his mother steps in.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, smoothing his collar.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ben says tiredly, fidgeting with the gold buttons at his sleeves. The image of Melody’s disappointed face keeps twisting and turning in his head, and he can’t seem to concentrate on anything. “It’s all so . . . complicated.”

Belle sighs and squeezes his shoulder. “I know, honey, but you have to do this. The kingdom is looking to you for guidance.”

“No pressure,” Ben mutters.

His mother kisses his cheek and presses a note into his hands. “Here. I wrote this while your father and the speechwriter were arguing.” Her smile turns mischievous. “I think it might be more to your style than what they come up with.”

Ben leans into her and holds her hand tightly. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmurs, feeling the tension drain out of his body at the smell of her perfume.

“Oh, my baby,” she says softly. “It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“Five minutes till we’re on!” An assistant with a clipboard approaches them. “Your Highness, if you could just go over there with your husband—”

“Of course.” Belle straightens up and releases Ben, smiling gently at him before going over to sit next to Adam, who looks about ready to burst with tension.

“Are you ready, your Majesty?” One of the camera-people asks.

Ben plasters on a smile. “Sure.”

 

*****

 

“Three minutes until King Ben gives a worldwide address regarding the video clip leak from the Royal Guards of Auradon, but until then, let’s go to Bianca Sabados in Agrabah—”

“Should one of us go get Harry?” Claudine asks.

Uma starts, and glances distractedly at Claudine. “What?”

“Should we go get Harry?”

Even though they’re outside, Harry and Harriet’s voices are still clearly audible, and neither of them are refusing to back down.

“No,” she says, twisting off one of her rings. “Let them argue it out.”

Claudine nods and goes back to talking with Ashe, who keeps on fiddling with the leather straps that cover her stump, deftly picking apart the buckles over and over again.

Uma hasn’t spoken with any of her cousins yet, even though she has had ample opportunity to do so. Jonas and Desiree have claimed an entire table; and their sisters are spread out across it, most of them in varying degrees of sleep. Poppy is nestled in Desiree’s arms, happily sucking her thumb.

Honestly, she’s glad someone’s enjoying themselves.

 

*****

 

“One minute to air!” Someone calls, and Ben seriously considers making a break for it and jumping out the window. Maybe a miracle will happen and he’ll somehow gain the ability to fly, or heal instantly.

_If Mal were here, she could do it . . ._

Gods, he really wishes Mal was here. He had actually asked Fairy Godmother to bring her up here, but the headmistress had told him that the students were in lockdown right now, since the press was inside the castle and prowling for interviews. He wants her safe, but there's also a selfish part of him that wants her here.

“We need to put your statement on the teleprompter, your Majesty,” the camera-person tells him, and Ben looks at the two statements front of him; one typed by the speechwriter, and the other in his mother's handwriting.

“Right,” he says, handing them his mother’s statement. “My statement.”

 

*****

 

The screen flashes the large and obnoxious sigil of Auradon and then the camera zooms in on Ben’s face, serious and drawn.

“My fellow Auradonians,” he begins, but there is still chatter in the Chip Shoppe, until Ashe snarls at everyone to shut up and they all fall quiet.

“I am here with you today to address the events of two hours ago; when somebody hacked into one of the members of the 141st Royal Regiment’s body cameras, and leaked confidential information. The hacker is still unknown, but rest assured, we will find whoever did this.”

Uma frowns at the screen. Ben sounds stilted and not at all like himself (yeah, she’s only talked to him like three times, but she knows how he talks, okay?) Also, his eyes keep on darting back and forth between the camera and somewhere offscreen, and it’s starting to freak her out.

“Oh, motherfucker, he’s reading off of a teleprompter,” Claudine’s also noticed the strange way Ben is acting.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Sierra asks.

“Not necessarily,” Claudine whispers back. “For all we know, this could be a statement from all of them on how they’re going to punish us for disobedience.”

Sierra curses and Uma crosses her arms and glares at the screen.

 _If this motherfucker tries to screw me over_ —

 

*****

“Um, in regards to the question of why the guards were there, that is, in the Isle at all, is confidential at this time, but . . .”

Belle’s statement is deft and concise, but coming out of Ben’s mouth, it trips and stumbles. His mother’s clever turns of phrase sound clunky, and he keeps pausing in all the wrong places. He keeps on having to glance at the teleprompter every two seconds because it’s scrolling up too fast, and his tongue seems to have curled up in his mouth.

This is the worst he has ever spoken publicly.

Adam is nodding him along encouragingly, his mother is smiling at him, and Fairy Godmother finally looks a little relaxed, but Ben can see the cameraman surreptitiously checking his phone and the speechwriter is barely able to feign interest.

Unbidden, Uma’s face swims into his mind, and she’s giving him that look of mingled fury and pity, like she can’t believe how big of an idiot he is.

_How do I know you’re aren’t just saying that right now, and won’t actually do anything later on?_

Shame snakes into his stomach. She’s right. For all his talk about second chances and working with Uma, when he was faced with his first big issue, he choked.

Instead of handling the crisis, he let his parents take over and absolve him of responsibility to do anything more than be a spokesperson. A true king wouldn’t have let his mother write him a speech; he would’ve come up with something on his own. A real king would have listened to the protests of his people; not shut himself up in the Royal office.

“And, uh . . .”

The words are scrolling on the teleprompter, but they’re blurring into nonsense before his eyes, replaced by a myriad of faces. Uma. Evie. Harry. Carlos. Gil. Jay. Melody. Mal.

What would they do, if they were in his position?

 

*****

 

“What’s going on?” Bonnie asks, staring at the television.

“I have no idea.” Ashe mutters, head cocked to the side. “Is he broken?”

“Why is he just staring at the camera?” Nicky Parker, Big Murph’s son, whispers to Morwenna Mim.

“Dunno.” Morwenna replies impassively. “Maybe he’s having a stroke.”

Uma doesn’t say anything, just leans against a table and looks on.

 

*****

 

“Your Majesty?” the cameraman whispers from the sidelines.

Ben snaps back into reality, and he becomes keenly aware of everyone’s eyes on him.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly, trying to figure out what to say. “Um, my m - I mean, my statement had the perfect amount of platitudes in it. It had promises of listening and a great explanation for everything.”

He pauses for a second and continues. “I thought that I would be able to go up in front of the cameras and give a statement like nothing was out of the ordinary, but I was wrong. I can’t pretend that what happened didn’t happen.”

His father is staring at him and mouthing; what are you doing? and his mother looks confused, but Ben presses on.

“We cannot bury our heads in the sand and ignore what is happening around us. And I . . . I have the duty to be honest with my subjects and by extension, everyone else.”

 

*****

 

There is a flutter of movement next to Uma, and out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of red leather as Harry comes up next to her. Without looking, she takes his hand, and as he laces his fingers with hers, she finally feels anchored.

 

*****

 

“I sent the guards to the Isle of the Lost.” Ben tells the camera. It’s easier to focus on the camera rather than the people around him, who are all in various states of horror or apoplexy, in his father’s case. “I wanted them to bring Uma Triskelion to me so that we could continue the conversation we started on the Isle, about bringing more villain children over.”

Fairy Godmother gasps, but Ben doesn’t even look at her, just keeps talking.

“The guards were told to bring her to me, and so they followed my orders.”

 

*****

 

Harry’s jaw is set, and Ashe is glaring at the television screen, while Bonnie is looking at Ben with disgust. Claudine has her arms crossed defensively and Sierra mumbles, “Oh yeah? Well, you have a funny way of starting conversation, _cabrón_.”

“Sierra said a bad word!” Jia whispers excitedly to Nicky. “She owes us candy!”

 

*****

 

“I should have been more specific in my orders,” Ben says, trying not to sound too desperate. “Those guards were only doing their jobs, and any actions that they undertook were done under my orders. I shoulder the blame in this whole debacle.”

A breath. In and out.

“That is why I cannot punish these guards for their actions.”

 

*****

 

Furious voices are filling the Chip Shoppe and Uma can feel the anger in everyone, can feel how it makes the very floor vibrate. Nobody can hold back their visceral reactions; Bonnie had to tackle Ashe after she tried to storm out the door and swim over to Auradon to kill everyone, Sierra is yelling in a mix of Cantonese, Spanish, and English, and Claudine, who is normally so composed, is on her feet and shouting at the screen. Gil’s already flipped a table, and Gonzo looks like he’s a few seconds away from following in his footsteps. Meanwhile, Harry’s cutting off the circulation to her hand; he’s gripping it so tight, but Uma barely notices, because there is red in front of her eyes and only one coherent thought is going through her head.

_THEY WILL PAY IN BLOOD FOR THIS_

 

*****

 

The mob outside of the castle roars in fury, but the people inside the Royal office have the complete opposite reaction; slumping in relief against their couches and looking like weights have been lifted off their shoulders.

But the weights slam right back down onto their shoulders when Ben continues talking.

“However, what has been done to Uma Triskelion and her crew cannot go unanswered, which is why, effective in three days, Uma and her crew will be coming to Auradon.”

 

*****

 

Since they’re all still yelling, or in Uma’s case, so furious they can’t speak, it takes a full minute before someone realizes what Ben said, and then Harriet Hook’s voice cuts across the Chip Shoppe.

“Shut up, you morons! He just said something about you going to Auradon!”

And then the inhabitants of the Chip Shoppe go silent, all of them straining to hear the king and see if what Harriet said is true.

 

*****

 

“When I first brought Lady Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos to Auradon, they were meant to be the first of many children that I hoped to bring over from the Isle of the Lost.” Ben’s father looks ready to faint, and his mother is staring at him as though he’s grown two heads.

“But I got distracted. I was juggling being a king, a student, and a boyfriend, and those plans slipped to the back of my mind.”

Guilt curdles in his stomach as he says, “I was so focused on being the best I could be that I forgot about the very people I had promised myself to help in the first place, and they suffered for it. While they suffered through malnutrition and deadly illness, I feasted with kings and queens. I never thought about food until I saw people who had never had enough to eat. The children of villains should not be held responsible for the sins of their parents, which is also why I’m overturning the Leftover Act.”

Fairy Godmother gapes, and the cameraman nearly keels over.

“No longer will Auradon’s leftovers be sent to the Isle of the Lost. Instead, barges full of fresh food and supplies will be sent over.”

Ben focuses on the camera. “I know that what I’ve said tonight will shock and probably polarize everyone, but I want all of you to know this: as long as I am your king, I will fight for you. My goal is for all of my subjects to have the same opportunities as everyone else and be able to live the best possible life that they can have. I believe wholeheartedly in the Auradonian people, and now I am asking them to believe in me, and trust in the fact that we will brave whatever changes may come our way. Thank you, and good night.”

 

*****

 

There is silence for a second after Ben finishes his speech, and then the entire Chip Shoppe roars.

Jonas is standing on a table, holding Poppy like she’s a newborn lion, and hollering, “GUESS WHO’S GOING TO AURADON BITCHES! US MOTHERFUCKERS!” while Lala and Talea dance around him, squealing. Nia has tears running down her face, but her smile is blinding as Desiree hugs her tightly; Piper, Allegra, and Madi laughing wildly.

Claudine, Sierra, Ashe, and Bonnie are all jumping up and down in a circle, screaming incoherently at each other with the biggest grins on their faces. Marya tells them to get some dignity, but then Bonnie drags her into the circle and she joins them in jumping and screaming.

Gil, Gonzo, and Big Murph are swinging from chandeliers, scream-shouting the words to a highly inappropriate drinking song as Rick Ratcliffe and La Foux Deux egg them on, while Harriet tries to stop grinning long enough to yell at them.

Morwenna, Jia, and Nicky are dancing all over the piano, creating loud sounds that should sound terrible, but somehow add to the sound of celebration.

Uma only notices all of this for a split second though, before Harry grabs her and spins her around, both of them laughing wildly into each other.

“Oh my gods,” she whispers, bringing his face down to hers. She’s smiling so hard her face hurts, but she just can’t seem to stop. “We’re going to Auradon.”

He grins and draws her even closer, arms wrapped around her waist. “All because of you, darling.”

She laughs and presses her forehead against his, but there is a small corner in her mind that is lingering on Ben’s refusal to punish the guards . . .

All those thoughts are shaken from her mind though, when Gil runs over to them and then they all start screaming at each other.

 

*****

 

The camera crew packs up their equipment and leaves really quickly after Ben is done with his broadcast, and Fairy Godmother makes a break for it with them, leaving Ben and his parents alone in the Royal office.

Ben has been straightening up his desk and replacing everything with the stuff that is actually supposed to be on there, and he’s been carefully avoiding eye contact with his parents the entire time.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Adam finally demands, breaking the silence.

Ben pauses in the middle of centering his picture of Mal and looks at his parents.

Adam is fuming, a vein in his forehead clearly pulsing, and his mother looks extremely worried, like she’s convinced that he’s under some sort of spell or something.

“Well?” his father snaps. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ben looks his father in the eye and says calmly, “For the first time Dad, I did the right thing, instead of the easy thing.”

 

*****

 

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Merida shakes her head incredulously and blows a few stray red wisps out of her eyes. “The lad has balls after all. Who knew?”

“Not me,” Moana deadpans, reclining against the sofa.

“This isn’t over.” Both girls turn their heads to Melody, who is standing near a window and staring out at the horizon. She turns around to face them and says, “What Ben did was a good first step, but he has too much faith in Auradon. There is no way the ruling class is going to take this lying down.”

Merida stretches like a cat across a divan. “True. I already saw an article about how King Stefan and Queen Leah are already considering a challenge to the ruling.”

“They can't do that,” Moana dismisses, then frowns. “Can they?”

“Who knows? Auradon law is weird.” Melody flops gracelessly next to Moana. “It's exactly why we need to be here, to make sure they don’t screw it up.”

“This is a stupid plan,” Merida argues. “Our parents hate Auradon, and I’m not exactly a big fan of them either. What excuse would we have for being in Auradon?”

Melody smiles mysteriously. “Well, I do have one idea . . .”


	7. I'm Not as Drunk as You Think I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, the pirate crew (and a few other people they've invited) prepare to leave the Isle, Mal and Melody scheme, and the biggest howler that the Bargain Castle has ever seen is thrown.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

The not-so-innocent citizens of the Isle of the Lost all cower reflexively as Uma Triskelion’s voice rings over the bustle of the crowds on the grimy streets.

Even though she might have given all of them food and clothing, they all know better than to get on the bad side of Uma. With the food and clothing comes the tacit agreement that as long as you don’t fuck with her and her own, then she won’t fuck with you and yours.

Uma, Claudine, Ashe, and Sierra have just been walking around and arguing over where to get lunch, (Ashe wanted to go to the Slop Shop, but Claudine had vetoed that immediately, and Sierra and Uma were arguing whether to get dim sum or not) when Maddy Mim had sauntered past them, deliberately shoving Uma hard enough to nearly make her trip and hissed something that had made Uma yank her back.

Ashe already has a hand on her knife and Sierra has pushed Claudine behind her reflexively, while Uma’s just straight up digging her teal talons into Maddy’s shoulder.

Maddy gives Uma a delicate smirk, pink lips smug. “I said you were a sell-out,” she says sweetly, with a touch of menace. “Are you now deaf, as well as a weakling?”

“Bitch, you might want to think carefully about what your next words are,” Uma snarls, her eyes flaring.

“And why would I want to do that?” Maddy sneers, flipping her pale mint hair over her shoulders. “For all of your talk about how Mal betrayed all of us, you went around and pulled the exact same shit. You even got him to take your entire crew to Auradon and for what? So you can forsake your heritage and eat crumpets with the people who enslaved us?” Her lip curls. “Face it, you little sea whore, you’re a sell-out.”

Uma’s jaw clenches and the other three girls wait to see what will happen next, ready to pull out their weapons and assist their captain (not that she needs it, but for moral support, you know?)

But after a moment, Uma takes her hand from Maddy’s shoulder and fixes her with a cold look. “You know what?” she says, her voice calm. “I’m sure everybody’s expecting me to beat your cracker ass—”

“ _Please_ beat her cracker ass,” Sierra says fervently, glaring at Maddy.

“—But I don’t your blood all over my new jacket.” Uma finishes, gesturing towards her brand-new black military-style jacket with gold buttons. (Uma’s pretty sure that she’s going to tell Harry to bury her in this jacket, because this is the nicest thing she’s ever owned.) She gives a disdainful looking Maddy a dazzling smile. “You have Queen Ella of Montcavrel to thank for that.”

Ashe is looking like Christmas has been cancelled, and Sierra also looks slightly disappointed, but then Claudine snaps her wrist, and the snake whip unfurls from around her wrist and wraps around Maddy’s throat. With another yank, Claudine brings Maddy down to her knees and stands over her, eyes blazing.

“Strangling your fat neck won’t get any blood on my clothes, so you’re all out of luck with me,” Claudine hisses.

Uma is staring at Claudine with pride, Sierra’s mouth is open, and Ashe whoops. “Yes!”

Maddy slowly drags her eyes up to meet Claudine, and laughs lowly. “You finally grew some balls, honey?”

Sierra draws her sword. “Bitch, you do _not_ get to talk to my girl Claudine—”

“It’s fine, Sierra,” Claudine says, keeping her eyes fixed on Maddy.

“I see you still need to be escorted around,” Maddy’s grin is sharp and malicious. “Tell me, is it still because you’re afraid of getting ra—”

Claudine pulls her forward and Maddy chokes, scrabbling at her throat as the whip tightens.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Claudine growls, her voice more menacing than Uma has ever heard it. “You are a low-life piece of shit that is only alive because I keep telling _them_ ,” here, she gestures at Uma, Sierra, and Ashe, who all wave, “Not to kill you. God knows why though, ‘cause you certainly deserve it.” Her voice drops a little, and the wire feels slippery in her hands, but Claudine holds on tightly, because she _needs_ to say this. “You and that bitch Ginny Gothel butchered Hermie Bing and strung up Hadie all over this town. Anthony Tremaine and the Gaston twins beat the living shit out of the Baduns and you sent Yzla into a _coma._ ” It is difficult to get the next words out but she forces them out anyways. “You even told Anthony Tremaine and the Gaston twins to rape me, why would you do that?”

Claudine’s voice breaks a little and Uma takes a step forward but Claudine waves her off. Maddy just stares up at her, pale eyes unfathomable as Claudine tries to control her breathing.

“Whatever.” She clears her throat, fully aware that Ashe, Sierra, and Uma are staring at her concernedly. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re all dead and you’re still here.”

Maddy’s lips pull into a sneer but Claudine continues, looking directly at Maddy for the first time.

“I’ve thought about what I would say to you for the longest time you know. How I would tell you off, how I would ask what sort of monster butchers children and sends men to rape girls. I rehearsed the conversation in my head a thousand times but you know what I realized? That you will never be sorry for what you did. In your mind, you did nothing wrong.”

Ashe gives a vicious kick to Maddy’s ribs, and the girl pitches forward, turning her head to glare daggers at Ashe.

 “Everyone wants to kill you, you know,” Claudine says conversationally, her fear starting to melt away. “Big Murph wanted to slit your throat and leave you out for the hyenas, but Ashe disagreed. She said it was too fast.”

“Also, we had already done it on Ginny Gothel,” Ashe adds, glaring at Maddy.

“Sierra suggested a Chinese method of torture, that we peel the skin off of your body and douse you in vinegar and spirits, then light you on fire. Luckily for you, Uma vetoed it.”

“Too much work,” Uma says loftily, flipping her braids (courtesy of Desiree) over her shoulder. “The bloodstains would never come out of the floor and why the hell should we waste liquor on you?”

“There were other ideas of course, many more ideas. Say what you will about the crew, they are very imaginative. But I didn’t let them.”

“So you could kill me yourself?” Maddy snorts and tips her head back, allowing the whip to curl more tightly around her neck. “Go ahead. If you have the balls to do it.”

“Do it,” There is a terrible look on Ashe’s face and Uma and Sierra are nodding.

“Kill you?” Claudine sneers down at Maddy, relishing the flash of confusion in her eyes, right before she gives a savage twist of her wrist and brings Maddy sprawling across the cobblestones. She bends down and drags Maddy up by the collar of her shirt, hissing into her ear.

“I’m not going to kill you Maddy Mim. Death is too easy for you. No, what I’m going to do is let you live. I’m going to let you live out the rest of your days out in this hellhole, while my friends and I go to Auradon. You will rot away here, while we, the _traitors_ , get to fill our stomachs and do whatever the fuck we want.”

She yanks the whip, and it unwinds, leaving circles of black and purple around Maddy’s neck as it coils neatly back around her wrist.

“Goodbye Maddy.” Claudine sets down the street, her headscarf sliding off of her head at the quick pace she is setting.

Maddy is still gasping for breath, her hand scrabbling at her throat, but the air leaves her in a choked gasp as Sierra’s sword sinks into a spot under her ribs.

“Yeah, well,” Sierra withdraws her sword and uses a bit of Maddy’s shirt to clean it off. “Claudine didn’t say anything about stabbing you.”

Maddy’s fingers press against her side and she opens her mouth to say something, but then Ashe backhands her across the face, and she falls back.

“Damn, that felt good!” Ashe grins down at her. “Hey, Uma look, I think my ring split her lip!” she turns smugly to her captain. “And you said that the giant rock looked gaudy.”

“It is gaudy,” Uma retorts, before looking down at Maddy in disgust. “What I said about my jacket and your blood still applies, boo, but don’t you think for a second I won’t hesitate to rip your face off if I ever see you again, do you understand me?”

Properly cowed now, Maddy just nods.

“Good.” Uma flashes a dark smile at her. “Say bye to Anthony and the Gastons for me, would you do that for me? I have some stuff to do.”

“That we do,” Sierra takes off after Claudine, Ashe and Uma following close behind, leaving Maddy in the middle of the street.

“Claud!” Ashe smacks her on the back as soon as she catches up to her, making the other girl nearly trip on the uneven stones. “Girl, that was amazing!”

“You fucked her up so good!” Uma cackles, high-fiving Claudine.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sierra throws an arm around her and hugs her.

Claudine gives them a shaky smile, and their grins fade as they realize Claudine is on the verge of tears. “Thanks,” she says, her voice trembling. “I’m happy you’re all so excited, but for the moment, could we just,” she wipes her eyes. “Could we please just talk about something else?”

“Yeah, of course.”

For a few moments, there is silence between all of them as Claudine tries to stifle her tears and breathe properly. Sierra keeps her arm around Claudine’s shoulders in a silent show of support.

Ashe speaks up, her voice fighting to be cheerful. “I still can’t believe Harry got you tattooed on his arm,” she teases, glancing at Uma.

Uma groans and Sierra laughs. “Oh my fucking gods, you’re right! I completely forgot to make fun of you for that!”

“Please don’t.”

“Tell me, how does it feel to be basically engaged to a boy who thinks that raccoon eyes are fashionable?” Ashe bats her eyes, causing even Claudine to smile.

“Shut the fuck up,” Uma retorts, but she can’t quite contain the ~~sappy~~ self-satisfied smile on her face, because _goddamn_ , that tattoo.

After the tattoo had healed, Harry had ripped off the bandages and presented his arm to her with a flourish, asking “Do you like it?” with a devilish smile that suggested he knew _exactly_ how she’d feel about it. The tattoo was ( _is_ ) a work of art, with the gorgeous cerulean tentacles curving around his right shoulder and how they curl and twist their way around the length of his arm, with the bright colors jumping out magnificently against his pale skin . . .

Needless to say, she had jumped him, and there hadn’t been a lot of sleeping in their cabin since then.

“Oh look, she has that sappy look in her eyes,” Sierra nudges Claudine.

“It must be nice to have a bitch,” Claudine muses, grinning at Uma’s outraged expression.

“Listen, just because y’all hoes don’t have a man—”

“Honey, no one wants your man, except you.” Ashe sneers. “Also, I’m strictly into vaginas, remember?”

“No one can forget, ‘cause you tell us every five minutes!” Sierra laughs at her, and Uma and Claudine laugh at the offended look on Ashe’s face.

“You’re _funny_ , Sierra, so funny, but let me tell you this—” Ashe breaks off and frowns, looking ahead. “Isn’t that Gil and Harry?”

The other three girls crane their necks and are met with the sight of their first and second mate arguing, with Harry gesticulating wildly with his hook while Gil stubbornly shakes his head.

“Go get lunch without me,” Uma begins to make her way to Gil and Harry.

“You were supposed to pay!” Claudine protests, but Uma just waves them off.

“Let’s go,” Sierra starts to walk away, and the other two follow.

“Does this mean we can go to the Slop Shop?”

“Ashe, I told you, that place is disgusting!”

The sound of the girls bickering fades out as Uma approaches Harry and Gil, who haven’t noticed her and are still arguing.

“-You should be the one to tell her.”

“What? Abso-fucking-lutely not!”

“You’re not getting out of this, I outrank you!”

“It’s your sister making the offer!”

“Making what offer?” To their credit, neither of the boys jump, but Harry and Gil still exchange panicked looks of “oh fuck, how much did she hear?” before giving her innocent smiles that don’t fool her for a second.

Harry coughs awkwardly but says nothing. Gil starts whistling, determinedly avoiding her eyes.

Uma crosses her arms and scowls at them. “Tell me.” She commands, in her ‘I am the Captain and you _will_ obey me’ voice.

“Tell her,” Gil says quietly.

Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. “Harriet . . . offered to buy the ship off of us.”

There is a weight sinking into her chest but she still manages to ask, “For what?”

Harry looks desperately uncomfortable, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Since it can’t sail anymore or anything, I reckon she might take it apart and then sell the wood.”

The words land like a blow, but they also make perfect sense in her head. There isn’t any need for the _Lost Revenge_ any more. They’ll all be going to Auradon, and the ship is wrecked to the point of never being able to sail again, so why shouldn’t Harriet have it?

And yet . . . The ship is home, far more than the flat above the Chip Shoppe. It is where she first made a name for herself and where everyone had become an actual crew for the first time. They had all poured their energy into making it into a refuge, away from their parents and their expectations and anything else their shitty lives could throw at them. Hell, most of the crew spent more time on the ship than at their actual homes. To give up the _Revenge_ would feel like giving up one of her limbs.

Noticing the look on her face, Harry quickly says, “It was just an idea. I can tell Harriet to fuck off, if you’d like.”

Uma startles, and forces her features into a blank expression. “That’s not necessary. She can have it.”

“ _What_?” Gil gapes at her.

Even Harry looks surprised. “Are you sure, love?”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?” Uma asks wearily, rubbing at her temples. “The ship’s broken beyond repair, Gil. It’s never going to sail again, and besides, how would we bring it to Auradon?”

Gil flounders for a response. “I don’t know, but we can’t just get rid of it! It’s home!” He sounds so sad that Uma nearly takes it all back just so he stops giving her that betrayed puppy look.

“Harry, back me up on this!” Gil turns pleading eyes on Harry.

Harry holds up his hands. “She’s the captain, Gil. It’s her ship; she can do what she likes with it.”

“Is that what you really think?” Uma asks, eyeing him.

He turns towards her and shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what I think. You’re the captain, what you say goes.”

A small flare of warmth grows in her chest, but Gil shoots a betrayed look at Harry. “Traitor!”

Harry’s eyes darken, but Uma steps between the two before they can start hitting each other. “Come on, Gil. How would we even take it to Auradon? It would sink as soon as we unmoored it from the docks and even by some miracle if we did get it to float, the idiots would assume that we were attacking them and then blow it out of the water.”

 “But . . .” he trails off helplessly.

“I know,” Uma says quietly. “It’s not easy for me either.”

Gil sighs, and she bumps his shoulder. “It’s not all bad though. There are better ships in Auradon.”

He perks up at that. “Really?”

“Yes! Are you kidding me, those assholes are richer than Midas! They’ve probably got a whole fleet of ships locked up somewhere. All we need to do is take one of those ships – actually, why limit ourselves? Let’s take as many as we like!” She grins at him. “We’ll call it reparations.”

Gil looks confused. “I thought that was for slavery.”

“Don’t ruin this,” Uma tells him, then turns to an amused-looking Harry. “Go tell your sister that we accept her offer, but only if she pays in cash.”

“Will do,” Harry flashes a smirk at her, and then starts to head towards the docks.

Uma throws an arm around Gil’s shoulders. “Come on, boy. Let’s to go get lunch.”

“Can we get eggs?”

“ . . . Yes Gil, we can get eggs.”

Gil pumps his fist in victory and Uma turns her head to hide her smile. After all, she does have a reputation to maintain.

 

*****

 

There was a time when Mal would've been overjoyed at the prospect of no longer having her face flash on every screen in Auradon with constant updates on what she was doing, but she will happily take another rerun of her spitting out that curry on Sultana Jasmine (what? That curry was so damn spicy, and besides, the jewels encrusted on Jasmine's hijab had protected her from the hot liquid. No one had gotten hurt!), instead of the video of the guards in the Chip Shoppe that's been blowing up the news lately.

Unfortunately, as soon as she steps into her room, she's greeted with the now-familiar sounds of the confrontation between the guards and Shrimpy. Evie is studiously reading from a navy blue notebook and occasionally making notes in the margins, sitting on top of her covers and Jay is sitting backwards on a chair, absentmindedly swiping at his phone, though he's watching the television. Carlos is sitting on the floor, Dude in his arms. They are focused on the television.

As the guards whip out their guns and the kids start screaming, Mal decides she's had enough.

“Turn it off,” she snaps, startling the three of them. “How can you stand to watch that over and over again?”

“It's all over the news,” Carlos points out. “What are we supposed to do, not watch it?”

Mal lets out an annoyed sigh as she sits on the edge of her bed and toys with the purple sheets. “If you really want tips on how to get arrested, they're coming here tomorrow.”

Carlos twists around so fast that Dude whines and jumps out of his lap (the damn truth gummy had worn off, to her eternal relief). “What did you just say?”

“What?” Mal asks defensively, but a chill goes through her at the look on Carlos's face. It's easy to forget that he is Cruella's son, but the glare he's giving her is a carbon copy of his mother’s famous glare. “It was a joke.”

“This was our life not so long ago,” Carlos bites out. “Try to have a little sympathy.”

Mal doesn't bother to hide her snort. “For Shrimpy and her gang of losers? Please, you know me better than that.”

“Mal—” Jay warns, putting down his phone, but Carlos is already red in the face.

“Are you kidding me? Those guards had guns!”

“Oh please, it's not like they were in any real danger,” Mal scoffs. "Those guns were just a scare tactic.” Her lip curls. “Maybe if Shrimpy hadn't tried to kill Ben, they wouldn't—”

“You're even stupider than I thought if that's what you really think.” Carlos snaps.

Mal feels her eyes narrow. “What did you just say to me?”

 _“Mal,”_ Jay says again, a tinge of urgency in his voice.

“Forget it.” Carlos knocks over his chair in his haste as he stands up. “Turn it off if you want, I don't care.” He whistles for Dude and the small dog trots behind him as he walks out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Mal turns around to share an incredulous stare with Evie and Jay, but Jay is standing up as well.

“I'll go after him,” he says, heading towards the door. However, he pauses right before he leaves and turns to look at Mal. “And maybe just try to think of it Carlos's way?”

“Wha—”

Jay is already gone though, and Evie is still staring at her notebook.

“Can you please explain what's going on?” Mal demands.

Evie carefully closes her notebook before she answers and considers each word before she says anything. “It's been stressful around here, and we're all a little on edge. Carlos shouldn't have called you stupid—” Mal scoffs. “—but you shouldn't have riled him up.”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you.” Evie sighs. “I know you're angry about Uma coming to Auradon—”

“She tried to kill Ben! Why does everyone keep forgetting that?”

“Would you please let me finish?” Evie asks wearily, and the protests die on Mal’s lips, because she has never heard Evie sound so tired.

“I know that, and I understand where you're coming from, but Carlos just lost the only decent family member he had, and while you keep on bashing Uma and her crew, they're the only ones who did anything to avenge Diego.”

Her tone is bitter when she says, “I thought you didn't trust Shrimpy. Now you think she's some sort of hero?”

Evie looks her dead in the eye. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Mal. All I know is that while we were in Auradon, children were dying because of us, and while I don’t know whether to trust her or not, I do know that she is just as committed as I am to helping the children of the Isle. The kids are way more important than whatever disagreements I may share with her, but that’s just my opinion.”

She opens up her notebook, pauses, and then says softly, “Ben already forgave Uma for trying to kill him. Maybe you should do the same.”

Mal scowls at her, but Evie is focused on her notebook again.

Damn them, she thinks darkly, lying back in her bed. Damn them all. Damn Shrimpy, for not having the sense to see she wasn't wanted. Damn Carlos, who was so sensitive. Damn Evie, for calling her out and insisting that she understand. Damn Ben and his susceptibility for believing the best in people.

At the same time, that belief that people could change was what had made her fall in love with him in the first place. His kindness, his optimism, his steadfast belief in the innate goodness of humanity . . . Those traits would have made him a target on the Isle, but Mal loves him for those traits, not despite them. Ben is a good person, who makes her feel balanced. He is the best person she knows and she will happily destroy anyone who hurts him.

But she doesn't know how to protect him from everything.

Even though Ben tries to hide it, Mal still sees how much it hurts when his dad refuses to pick up his calls and how distanced his mother is when she talks with him over video chat. She agrees with both of them that Shrimpy isn't trustworthy, but she loves Ben more than she hates Shrimpy. Don't they see that they'll lose Ben if they don't support him?

Thinking of Ben's parents inevitably leads to thoughts of her mother and for the thousandth time, Mal reaches over to the knapsack slung over the bedpost and roots around in it, despite already knowing what's inside. Her sketchbook, a bag of banana chips, a half-empty bottle of water, but no pencil case.

The morning after Cotillion, Mal had reached into her bag to take out her mother and put her back in her tank, but there was no pencil case. She had emptied out every single pocket in the knapsack, even finding a ring that she had borrowed from Evie but never returned, but still no pencil case.

Mal doesn’t remember taking out her mother's pencil case on the Isle, but she clearly must have. Her mother was only a lizard, there was no way she could have moved the pencil case on her own. And with her mother on the Isle . . . Who knew what could happen?

She still hasn't told Ben or Evie about this; they have too much to worry about already without her problems added. Ben would insist on dropping all of his projects and focus entirely on finding her mother, calling it a "threat to the realm." Evie would freak out and tell her to inform the Royal Council immediately. Right now she cannot fathom telling Carlos anything, but Jay . . . Jay might understand.

There is also a shameful little part of her that is relieved that her mother has disappeared. Maleficent is a bitch, even in lizard form. She bites anyone who tries to feed her, hisses at Mal and her friends every time they come within five feet of her cage, and spends hours upon end glaring at Mal with acid-green eyes, as if to say, "This is your fault. You did this to me."

Mal turns on her side to look at the tank, wherein a small lizard is perched on top of a rock. After she realized that Maleficent was missing, she had snuck into Carlos and Jay's room and printed a 3-D model of her mother. She had cast an animation spell upon the lizard to make it seem more lifelike, but without her spell book, she couldn't remember half the words and had to make up a few. As a result the lizard moves stiffly and can only blink one eye at a time. No one has noticed, and Mal hopes it stays that way.

She fiddles with a strand of purple hair and sighs. Maybe she's worrying too much. After all, what damage could her mother do on the Isle? She's only a lizard.

 

*****

 

The scissors slam inches away from his head and stick in the wall, quivering dangerously.

Harry, who is clambering through the open window of the cabin, says gleefully, “Missed!”

Harriet has her chair turned back to him, but she turns her head slightly at the sound of his voice. “I knew it was you, idiot. Otherwise, your brains would be splattered all over my floor.”

“That’s a lovely image,” Harry tumbles to the floor gracelessly under his sister’s unamused eyes and straightens up. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” he says, gesturing at the unadorned wooden walls.

Harriet scowls at him, slamming her book closed. “Did you come here for a reason or did you come just to criticize my decorating skills?”

“Why can’t it be both?” As his sister gets the “I’m going to murder you, you little shit” gleam in her eyes, Harry relents. “Uma is allowing you to buy the _Revenge_. But you have to pay in cash.”

Harriet rolls her eyes and reaches down her shirt (“Jesus, lass, have some fucking dignity!” “We’ve _bathed_ together you dumbass.”) to withdraw her wallet. “You should consider yourself lucky that I’m paying you at all. That ship is a floating piece of wreckage.”

“Hey!” Harry protests. “It’s  _our_ floating piece of wreckage.”

“Gods, you’re pathetic,” Harriet sighs, handing over a few notes. “Here. And tell your girl that I overpaid for that junk ship. No one else would have even bothered giving you money for that thing.”

“Did you give us money because I’m your favorite brother?”

“Motherfucker, you’re my  _only_ brother.”

“You don’t know that for sure though,” Harry reminds her.

Harriet considers this and frowns. “Yeah, you’re right.”

With their father’s propensity for picking up anything in a skirt, there could be other tiny children of Hook running around the Isle for all they knew. Yet, Harriet, Harry, and Calista Jane were the only three who were allowed to bear his name.

Harry makes his way over to her and throws an arm around her leather-clad shoulders. “But I am your favorite sibling, though right?”

“Boy, get your hands off of me, I don’t know where they’ve been!”

At first glance, Harriet wouldn’t be easily identified as a child of Captain Hook, especially considering she barely resembles her siblings. Harry and Calista Jane share the same mother, a tavern wench who had long since died of some disease that the Isle wasn’t equipped to handle. Harriet’s mother was a siren named Nyrissa, who had stolen all of Hook’s money and then left Harriet on the ship shortly after she was born (sirens aren’t really known to be affectionate creatures). Harry and Calista Jane have their father’s pale skin, but Harriet’s skin is warm brown, and if it weren’t for her azure eyes that also belong to her father and Harry, no one would be able to tell that she’s her father’s daughter at all.

Harriet casts a glance at Harry’s tattooed arm and sighs, shaking her head. “You’re lucky you’re leaving the Isle tomorrow. Otherwise you would have the shit beaten out of you for being someone’s bitch.”

Harry just grins, not even bothering to deny it. “Are you concerned for my wellbeing?”

“You wish. I just don’t want your weakness associated with me.”

“You might have to be associated with me for one more night.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Harry pulls out a chair and drapes himself over it. “We’re holding a send-off rager at the Bargain Castle.”

“Maleficent’s old place?” Harriet actually shows interest for the first time, pushing her papers to the side. “How did you swing that?”

“Bribed ‘em.”

“Of course you did,” she leans back in her chair, tilting it back to two legs. “And I assume you’re pulling out all the stops?”

“It’s our last night in this hell; we have to make some sort of impression.” Harry offers her his best pleading look, carefully crafted to make even the most callous of souls melt. “Will you come, sister dear?”

“Call me that again and I’ll snip off your bits,” Harriet warns, but Harry’s eyes only widen a little, just like when he was little and wanted candy, and she relents. “I’ll consider it.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Harry hops off the chair and prepares to leave, but then his sister calls him back.

“Harry.”

He turns back, jacket slung over his fingertips. “Yes?”

There are things she has to say to him, so many things, and this is her last chance to say them, but Harriet has never been any good at dealing with her emotions or goodbyes so instead of saying anything, she reaches behind her desk and pulls out a dusty bottle. “Care for a drink?”

Her brother gives her an incredulous look. “You’ve never offered me a drink before,” he says, slightly suspicious.

Harriet shrugs and twists off the cork. “Like you said, it’s your last night.” She motions for him to pick up the glasses on the side-table. “Might as well have a drink with your poor sister before you leave forever, right?”

Harry frowns as he comes back with the glasses and sits down next to her. “But we’re not,” he argues as Harriet pours out a finger of dark amber Scotch. “We’re not leaving forever. We’ll bring the rest of the villain kids over, and you’ll be one of them in the next rounds.”

She doesn’t say anything, just takes a sip of Scotch. If she tells him exactly why she won’t ever be in one of the limousines heading to Auradon, it’ll just lead to a fight and she doesn’t want to fight with him right now.

“Skipper and Sterling haven’t been talking of anything else but Auradon for the past few days,” Harriet says instead. “Sammy’s about ready to tie them to the mast upside down, but even then they’ll probably talk.”

Harry snickers, and then pales. “Oh fuck, I have to deal with them from now on.”

“That’s right,” the horrified look on Harry’s face is giving her so much enjoyment. “They’re so looking forward to hanging out with their Uncle Harry, who _will_ keep the boys safe, or else he’ll have me and Sammy to answer to.”

At that, Harry can’t help but shudder. “That’s mean,” he says accusingly. “You’re a bloody evil woman. Setting Sammy on me . . . The lad has arms like tree trunks!”

“Then you’d best be taking care of Skipper and Sterling now, shouldn’t you?” She smiles sweetly at him as he takes a sullen sip of Scotch.

“I will,” Harry says seriously. As much as he might bitch about the Smee twins, he would never let anybody touch an extremely blonde hair on their tiny heads. “I promise that nothing will happen to them.”

“Good.” Harriet finishes off her glass.

Harry traces the rim of his glass for a second before asking quietly, “Have you spoken to him?”

She scowls reflexively at the mention of their father. “No.”

“Oh.” The words lodge somewhere in his chest region and even though he should bloody know better, the familiar stab of disappointment twists like a knife.

Harriet watches her brother, wanting nothing more than to tell him that their father isn’t worth it, that he’s a broken, bitter shell of a man who will never appreciate what he has, but she knows that Harry would defend Hook; insisting that he can’t help it, that it’s the drink and the Isle that have made him this way. More than ever, Harriet hates her father in those moments, because he makes no secret of the fact that he thinks of Harry as a disappointment, but Harry won’t hear a single word against him. Harry idolizes Hook, but Hook couldn’t give less of a damn about him.

“I’m sorry, little brother,” Harriet says. The words ‘I’m sorry’ feel unwieldy and foreign coming from her lips.

Harry just shrugs, mood clearly ruined. “ ‘S fine.”

“No, it’s not.” She looks at him, and for a moment, she can’t breathe, because all she can see is the little boy he once was, with big blue eyes and scraped-up knees. Before Calista Jane had been born, it had been just the two of them and Harry had followed her around everywhere. No matter how much she cajoled and threatened him, he refused to leave her alone. She was the one who had taught him how to snitch things off of the stall carts and had patched up his scrapes every time he fell down on the ship. There isn’t much of her life that she can remember before Harry and now . . . Now he’s leaving.

“Harriet?” Harry stares at her, concerned. There’s a far-off look in her eyes, and he’s getting kind of unnerved by the way she’s just sitting there.

His voice brings her out of her reverie and she shakes the memories off. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” She doesn’t seem entirely fine though, and Harry eyes her as he stands up. “I should go now, I have to meet up with the others.”

“Right, right,” Harriet stands up. “I’ve been keeping you.” She walks with him to the door of her cabin, and there’s a twinging ache in her chest, but she forces a smile to her mouth. “I’ll see you, little brother.”

Harry grips the doorknob, but Harriet still has that sad look in her eyes, and he can’t just leave her like this, so he lets go of the doorknob and wraps his arms around her.

There’s a second of hesitation before her arms come up around him, one hand going to cradle the back of his head, just like when they were children and he was scared of the thunder and winds that rocked the _Jolly Roger_ during storms. Harry holds her tightly, trying to put a lot of unsaid things into the ~~hug~~ embrace.

He must have succeeded, because her eyes seem glassier when they break apart. He reaches for the doorknob again, (he’s not good with the aftermath of emotional truths, but at least Uma’s even worse than he is) but Harriet says, “Wait.”

Harry turns towards her as she scrubs her face, trying to get her emotions in check. “When you see Calista Jane in Auradon—” she begins.

“If,” Harry argues. “Most likely she’s still on the Isle, hiding out somewhere with that Facilier girl. You know she likes running away for months on end.”

Harriet shakes her head. “She’s never run away for this long before. By now, the money’s usually run out and she’s come running back to Da, batting her eyes and begging for money.”

The thought makes him scowl. “She’s probably dead then.” Despite his uncaring tone, something in him shrinks away from the thought. Even though Calista Jane is a selfish brat, she _is_ his little sister. No matter how many times she abandons them, she’s still family.

Harriet gives him a pitying look. “You’re going to see Calista Jane in Auradon, and when you do, I need you to give her a message for me.”

He sighs and crosses his arms. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her to stay in Auradon.” That brings him up short, and he opens his mouth, but his sister continues. “There’s nothing left for her here. She made her choices, and now she has to live with them.”

The dark tone of his sister’s voice would have made a lesser man run away screaming, but Harry manages to stand his ground. “Excellent. Is that all—”

“And if she disregards me and comes back to the Isle,” Harriet’s eyes are cold and merciless as she says the next part. “tell her that I’ll kill her myself.”

 

*****

 

The sound of waves crashing relentlessly into the cliff side drowns out all other sounds from the Isle. White-crested waves thrash out an endless beat over the sounds of crows cawing and dogs barking in the distance.

Here, the world is quiet.

The waves are a familiar sound to Uma, as is the sight of the jagged rocks below. How many times has Ursula shoved her off the cliff to the mercy of the waves below? How many times have the waves lapped like fire on her body while her skin breaks on the rocks?

But Uma is not the only thing that Ursula has thrown off of these cliffs.

There are no graves on the Isle; everybody either burns their bodies or leaves them out in the street so Chernabog's servants can collect them and bring them to him to feast on. Ursula had refused to let her children rest in ashes and as bones in Chernabog's mountain. Instead, she had heaved their bodies into the cliff behind the shanty she lived in before she moved above the Chip Shoppe.

Uma doesn't remember much of the shanty, possibly there were happy memories in there with her siblings, but all those memories have been wiped out with memories of the stench of fish broth permeating the walls and waking up next to her brother and sister with their eyes wide and unseeing, their breath frozen in their mouths.

As she stands over the cliff and the wind whips her hair into her face, she thinks about the fact that there are only seven bodies in the ocean surrounding the Isle (though, not for lack of trying on her mother's part to have Uma join them).

“I'm leaving," she says into the open expanse of horizon, her voice barely audible. “There's nothing for me here.”

The waves continue to crash and nothing answers her.

“I can't live in a house full of ghosts anymore, and even though I know it wasn't your fault, you left me." Her voice sounds choked and thin in the air. "I know you couldn't do anything about it, but you still left. You left me all alone with her! She tried to kill me and when that didn't work, she tortured me endlessly and you said you were always going to be there and you weren't there!”

A group of crows making their nests near the rocks scatter into panicked flight, and Uma angrily swipes at her eyes before the tears can burn her skin.

“I should be thanking all of you though,” she says, trying for a sarcastic laugh, but it comes out as a sob instead. “You taught me my first lesson on living here in the Isle. No one is looking out for me. Everybody leaves. And because of you and Mama, I learned how to look out for myself. I survived on this godforsaken Isle despite all the fucking odds and I am still here!”

Every breath sends pain up her chest, and her hand is fisted so tightly in itself that it's gone numb. She listens as hard as she can, but the wind keeps howling and she would give anything for something to happen, for Thalassa to smack her for blaming them for dying, for Zion to trip her, for Elara to pull her hair . . .

Tears are rising in her eyes, blurring out her vision, and there is a painful lump lodging in her throat and she cannot breathe, she cannot breathe, she cannot _breathe_ -

“So you're really leaving?”

Air suddenly rushes into her lungs and Uma gasps, gulping down air as though she is drowning. She resists the urge to sink to her knees and instead wipes her clammy palms on her jeans before turning to face her mother, praying that she doesn't look like a complete wreck.

Ursula's tentacles are hidden under a cavernous paisley-patterned dress, and her shock of white hair is hidden under a purple and black head wrap. An empty bottle of cough syrup hangs limply from her ringed fingers.

“You look terrible,” she proclaims, eyeing Uma.

“What do you care what I look like?” Uma asks, frost creeping into her tone. Unbidden, her stomach tries to suck itself in. “And even if I am leaving, what's it to you?”

Ursula's lips form into a facsimile of a smile, reaching out to caress Uma's face. “Come now, baby dear,” she croons. “Can't a mother see her daughter off?”

An involuntary shudder goes through Uma. "Cut the bullshit Ma," she snaps, trying to pull away. “What do you really want?”

Any affection residing in Ursula's eyes vanishes and her grip on Uma's face tightens. “Vengeance.”

Uma sighs. “Mom—”

“For ten years, your brothers and sisters have been rotting at the bottom of the ocean," Ursula snarls, eyes flashing. "Ten years, my bastard brother and his pet Beast have sat in their castles, watching their children grow old, while mine never will.”

Ursula's voice breaks, and the uncomfortable sensation of sympathizing with her mother seizes in Uma's chest. She wants to say something, but the brief flash of emotion in her mother's eyes disappears as quickly as it came, and then Ursula's fingers dig into her cheek.

“But they made a mistake,” she says softly. “Yes, they killed my children, but they left one alive. You will be their undoing, Uma. Count on it.”

 _I'm not your puppet,_ is what Uma wants to say, but instead she says, “What do you want me to do?”

The ghost of a smile stretches across Ursula's face. “Seven lives,” she whispers. “Seven lives to make up for the ones they took from me.” A hungry look enters her eyes. “I want them to feel what I felt. The pain of watching your children waste away and crumble, while you watch, unable to do anything to save them . . .” Ursula's red-painted lips, cracked and split, curl into a sneer. “You can even kill that half-breed faerie you hate so much, I don't care.”

Her tongue curls in on itself. "Mother—”

“Avenge them, Uma Astraea,” Ursula hisses. “Live up to the name I gave you and prove you aren't as weak as I've always thought.”

Ursula releases her face and turns around, slithering back to the mainland.

As her mother leaves, her knees give out and then Uma is on the ground, gasping for breath again.

 

*****

 

Ashe takes a drag of the joint, breathing the sweet smoke into her lungs before exhaling it out in a curling, twisting pattern. The soft gray tendrils entwine with the billowing smoke coming from the burning warehouses in front of her, dry heat fans her face as flames devour the wooden walls.

In the midst of the fire, she can only just make out the words; PROPERTY OF BILL SYKES.

“Sorry Daddy,” she murmurs, letting smoke escape her lips. “But you had to know this was coming, right?”

Ever since she was old enough to walk, Ashe ran drugs for her father across the Isle. As soon as she grew old enough to hold a sword, her father's lackeys taught her how to handle a gun and a weapon and so in addition to drug running, Sykes also sold her around as a mercenary. Ashe was good at that job, better than anyone could have expected though, they really should have. What else could you expect from the little girl who had grown up with the most dangerous drug kingpin on the Isle?

Looking back, there was never even a question whether drugs would be in her life. Hell, even her mother, Nancy, had been addicted to crack. Her relationship with Sykes had been based on sexual favors in exchange for drugs, and Ashe held no delusions that her parents ever cared about each other. Ashe had always hated her mother a little for dying and leaving her alone with Sykes because while Ashe had a roof over her head and money to spare, Sykes was a vicious bastard, who had pushed her beyond her limits and didn't tolerate failure. After she had gotten cheated out of a deal for some cocaine, her father ordered his men to cut her hand off. She had been twelve, and she had never failed at her job again.

All of this is flashing through Ashe's mind as she watches the flames dance around the drug warehouse. Smoke rises in the distance; all the other warehouses are on fire as well.

_I destroyed your legacy, what do you think about that?_

Suddenly, the joint is snatched from her hand and Ashe has her gun out and ready before she's even seen who's there.

Sierra stands in front of her, looking utterly unimpressed. “I thought you quit,” she says accusingly, dropping the joint and stomping on it.

“Fuck you,” Ashe retorts, frowning down at the smoldering remains of the blunt. “It was my last one.”

“Oh, I've heard that one before,” Sierra rolls her eyes, deeply unimpressed. She points an accusing finger at Ashe. “Do I have to tell Uma about this?”

“What? No! For God's sake Sierra, it was one blunt.” Uma and Ashe have a deal going; Ashe stays clean as long as Uma eats food. Everyone else on the crew had called them idiots, but Uma had refused to budge, and Ashe had agreed, because there was no getting out of it when Uma had her eyes set and her mind made up.

“Good,” Sierra says curtly, and they stand there in silence for a few moments, staring at the flames surrounding the warehouses as wood falls, creating sparks.

Sierra has never been able to deal with silence well though, so she speaks up after a moment, her voice softer. “You understand why we're doing this, right Ashe?”

“I know,” Ashe replies, keeping her eyes fixed on the fire.

“There are so many people addicted to this shit, it's bad enough my stupid brother goes around selling it to people, I don't want my best friend getting caught up in all that—”

“Aw, Si-Si,” there's a faint undercurrent of guilt in Ashe's voice, but she makes an effort to have her voice remain cool. “You know it's way too late for that talk.”

Sierra gives her a sad look, all pleading eyes and anguished voice. “Ashe—”

"Whatever," Ashe waves her off, uncomfortable with emotions. "Did you drop the kids at your parents’ house?"

"Yeah." Sierra looks at the ground, viciously digging the toe of her brand-new lacy flats (courtesy of Snow White's barge) into the ground. "I tried to convince Jia to stay home tonight, spend her last night here with Mamí and Baba, but she's set on going with the other kids to Hades' racetrack."

"Can you blame her?”

“No, but I don't think she fully understands that going to Auradon means she's never going to see them or Fang again.” Sierra angrily swipes at her eyes, smearing a thin line of mascara down her cheek. “For Christ's sakes, she still sleeps in their bed. How am I supposed to take her away from everything she knows?”

“I don't know,” Ashe says quietly. “But . . . I do know that she's going to have a much better life in Auradon than she'll ever have here.”

“I know," Sierra says miserably. “It still doesn't make it easier, you know?”

Her voice breaks on the last word, and Ashe wraps her arm around Sierra's shoulders and holds her close.

In front of them, the flames rage on.

 

*****

 

Fairy Godmother smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes and seems vaguely forced. “Your Majesty—”

“Please,” Melody gives Fairy Godmother her most charming smile. “Call me Melody.”

“Very well then, Melody, I’m – ah – a bit confused—”

“What confuses you?” Melody asks innocently, leaning forward. Merida shoots her a side-eye, as if to say, _dial it back_ , and Melody surreptitiously kicks her under the desk. (This is the best acting she’s ever done!)

“You all seem like lovely girls—” Fairy Godmother begins.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you to say!” Moana exclaims, which makes Fairy Godmother flush and Merida and Melody exchange looks of mingled pride and disbelief. Anyone who really knew Moana would know that she never spoke like this, but Fairy Godmother is eating it up hook, line, and sinker.

“And heaven knows, you all have very impressive resumes, but do you really want to spend your internships as physical education teachers here?” Fairy Godmother questions, looking between the three of them quizzically.

“Of course!” Moana insists.

“I love exercising!” Melody chimes in.

Fairy Godmother turns towards Merida, who is chipping the navy polish off of her nails, but looks up when Moana elbows her. “Yeah, physical activity is . . . important . . . in . . . youths.”

Melody bravely resists the urge to slam her head into the desk until she loses consciousness and settles for scowling at Merida instead, who shrugs.

“Melody, you majored in Marine Biology and International Relations, what made you want to pursue this particular job?”

“Well,” Melody starts, sitting up straight and quickly tugging the sleeve of her jacket up when she sees Fairy Godmother’s eyes flit over to her tattoo (the look on Fairy Godmother’s face when she had seen Merida’s belly button piercing . . .) “I think it’s very important to have friendly relations with neighboring countries, and I feel that this opportunity will give me a greater insight into how Seaside can improve their schooling system and  . . .” (shit, she’s running out of ideas!)

Moana quickly jumps in. “I’ve never actually seen how the Mainland does their schooling, and I feel like I have a lot I could teach them about the basics of surviving in nature. Melody is an excellent swimmer and sailor and Merida is such a good shot with a bow; she would be a great archery teacher.”

“Yes,” Merida agrees, cottoning on. “I could totally whip your archery team into shape in no time.”

“Oh, we don’t have an archery team.” Fairy Godmother says with a cheery smile. “But we do have a R.O.AR and tourney team though.”

Out of the corner of her mouth, Moana murmurs, “What’s R.O.A.R?” but Melody has no idea what Fairy Godmother is talking about either.

Merida’s smile has frozen, but she manages to say, “Well, we’ll just have to start one then!”

Fairy Godmother beams. “What a nice idea!” She looks down at the resumes in front of her and Melody takes the opportunity to mouth at Merida, _nice save_. Merida rolls her eyes in response and Moana hides a smile behind her hand.

“We do need a new physical education teacher after Coach Maxwell retired early after the incident . . .” Fairy Godmother muses, which makes Moana’s eyebrows go up and Merida go stone-faced. “You’re hired!”

“Thank you so much, Fairy Godmother, you won’t regret this,” Melody assures, standing up and shaking her hand.

“Call me Verity, dear. After all, we’re going to be colleagues now!”

Moana and Merida also shake hands with Fairy Godmother, and still spouting off profuse thanks and assurances, they leave the Headmistress’s office.

They walk down the hall, out of hearing distance, and Merida erupts. “What kind of two-bit school doesn’t have an archery team?”

“Mer!” Melody admonishes. “Calm down.”

Merida shakes her head. “I swear Melody, if one of those kids causes an ‘incident’ with us—” she makes a threatening motion with her hands.

“We’re doing this for the kids, remember?” Moana reminds her.

“Right,” Merida heaves a gusty sigh. “I just – I don’t like it here, that’s all. It gives me the creeps.”

“I don’t blame you,” Moana admits, looking around uneasily. “From the moment we got to Auradon, something felt . . . off.”

“It’s the magic.” Melody says heavily.

Merida swears and Moana’s eyes go wide. “Oh my gods, you’re right. There’s no magic here.” She shudders. “No wonder it feels so strange and unfriendly.”

“That’s exactly why we have to be here,” Melody’s hand goes up to her locket, tracing the familiar lines. “To help Uma before they can get to her.”

 

*****

 

When Marya steps into the church, she is mildly disappointed that flames don't erupt from the ground to consume her or that no booming voice from the heavens commands her to leave, like her father always told her would happen if a homosexual entered the church.

Her heels click on the cracked marble as she walks in deeper into the church, the faint sound of chanting luring her in. Images of Jesus in the garden, on trial, being whipped on the soldiers, and being crucified are painted on the walls in all their gory glory.

When she sees two figures, she reaches down and takes off her heels before walking closer.

Her father is on his knees, praying loudly about the depravity and sins of his parishioners and begging God to grant him the patience to deal with all of his suffering . . . Marya loses interest and makes her way over to the second figure in the pews.

“Hey, Vee,” she whispers, kneeling down.

Her little sister jumps, and stares at Marya as though she's a ghost. “Marya?” She whispers, before flinging herself into Marya's arms.

Marya tightens her arms around Vee's tiny frame, surreptitiously feeling for bruises. “Are you alright, _malyshka_? Papa didn't give you a hard time, did he?”

Officially, she's been forbidden from ever seeing her sister again after her father found out she had joined a pirate crew full of "degenerates and scum not fit to lick our shoes". Marya had pointed out that if he was concerned about degenerates, then he should probably stop letting Claude Frollo into the church, but her father hadn't been impressed. He had kicked Marya out of the house, unwilling to expose Vee to her 'lifestyle'. Uma had offered to let Vee sleep on the ship, but the Revenge already had every bed filled and you could hardly step anywhere without running into a makeshift bed. Also, Marya knew that her sister was too well-behaved and looked too much like their mother to ever truly provoke their father's ire (or make him violent) as much as Marya had.

Rasputin generally chose to leave his youngest alone, but Marya always checked anyways. For the past two days, she hadn't been able to make it to the church, her father had been walking around, muttering to himself.

“Papa said I'm going to hell,” Vee whimpers, casting a fearful glance at the  gruesomely realistic crucifix in the center of the church.

“According to Papa, we're all going to hell,” Marya mutters, but she took her sister's small hand. “Come on, we need to pack.”

“Where're we going?” Vee asks as they start to ascend the rickety spiral staircase.

“Auradon,” Marya replies, trying to make sure that none of the stairs would actually fall out from under them, despite the ominous creaking.

“I thought we weren't allowed in Auradon,” Vee says, sounding confused.

“They changed their minds.”

“But I thought you said that they were all low-life bastards who could eat your—”

“Yeah, maybe don't mention that part when we go there.” Marya shoulders the door to Vee's room open. No surprise, it's as dark as the church, with only a dusty window to illuminate the room.

Vee makes her way over to the chest of drawers while Marya fans out the trash bag and starts stuffing Vee's socks in the bag.

A low plaintive meow comes from the corner of the room and Marya tenses. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Vee replies innocently, but her blue eyes flit away and Marya follows her gaze to a corner, where tiny black paws and green eyes are clearly visible.

Vee tries to dart towards the corner, but Marya is faster. She is across the room before Vee can take two steps and scoops up the black cat, which wiggles in her grasp and meows disgruntledly.

“Varvara Nikolaevna,” Marya says accusingly. “What have I told you about keeping vermin in your room?”

“Mik isn't vermin!” Vee insists hotly, taking the cat from Marya's arms and holding it tightly against her chest. “He's family.”

Marya suppresses a sigh. “I know, I know.” Ever since their older brother, Dmitri, had died of the flu, Vee has been convinced that this small tabby cat was Dmitri in animal form, sent from God to watch over them. Marya wasn't at all convinced, but even she wasn't as heartless as to tell her sister that their brother was never coming back and even if he did, it wouldn't be in the form of a scrawny cat. Vee diligently takes care of the cat though, feeding it scraps and even bathing it. Marya isn't entirely convinced the cat isn't carrying some disease though; she remembers how many fleas were on it when it first came up to the house.

“Vee,” she says gently. “I know how attached you are to the cat—”

“-Mik,” Vee corrects, petting the now purring cat.

“-but you know you can't take it to Auradon, right?”

Vee's eyes well up. “But why? Please Marya, please!” She begins sobbing and Marya kind of wants to throw herself out of the window to avoid this conversation.

“ _Malyshka_ , the king is already doing us a favor by letting us come to Auradon, we can't take advantage,” she says awkwardly, patting her sister on the shoulder. “Mik will be perfectly fine here—”

“No he won't!” Vee cries, her eyes large and tragic. “Papa always kicks him whenever he sees him and he's so small, he can't find any food yet and all the tigers and lions keep trying to eat him, please don't let them eat our brother—” she hurls herself into Marya's arms, nearly squishing the poor cat, who wriggles out just in time.

Marya groans. “Vee—” she tries again.

Vee cries harder, tears soaking Marya's dress. “Please!”

“Okay!” Marya erupts. “Okay! You can take Mik to Auradon, just please stop crying.”

Vee looks up at her, eyes red. “Really?”

“Yes,” Marya replies wearily, running a hand through Vee's flame-red hair. “I'll figure something out with Uma. You can bring him with you.”

Vee's tears switch off immediately and then she's beaming up at Marya. “Thank you!” She gushes, squeezing Marya so hard she has to gasp for breath. “You're the best big sister ever!” Letting go of Marya, she skips over to Mik. “Come on, we have to pack for Auradon!”

Marya watches her with the resignation of one who has just been conned, but she's also proud of her devious sister, even though she was the target.

At the same time though, now she has to deal with Uma.

_I hope she has a soft spot for cats . . ._

 

*****

 

“I hate her,” Nia says bitterly.

“I know,” Desiree says absently, combing through Talea's hair. The two year old is sitting still for once, probably because Madi has her involved in a hand clapping game.

“She's a horrible person and an even worse mother and I hope she gets chlamydia,” Nia continues ruthlessly, wincing as Piper sews the weave in a particularly sensitive spot. “Actually, you know what; chlamydia is too good for her. I hope she gets some nasty shit that no one can cure—”

“Harmonia!” Desiree snaps, jerking her head at Lala and Talea. Luckily, Lala isn't paying attention. She's playing with a pile of cheap synthetic extensions on the floor and keeps putting them on top of their dog, Sarai, who is patiently bearing this. Talea is still focused on her clapping game with Madi.

“She's right though,” Allegra agrees offhandedly. She's sitting off to the side, with Poppy. The baby keeps on trying to grab at the lustrous black curls that Allegra now sports, but Allegra keeps moving her head out of the way and wincing every time she does so. “Morgana is a bi - bench,” she quickly modifies at Desiree's glare. “There's no point in denying it.”

Desiree bunches up Talea's hair, pulling a hair tie from her wrist. “She’s our mother and we should—”

“Seriously? You did not just say that!”

“Des, after all that shit she talked about you—”

“Why are you always defending her, when she couldn’t give a fuck about you?”

“I—”

The door to their cabin opens and Uma walks in, looking completely wrecked. Her jeans are covered in mud, and there is a haunted look on her face.

“Are you okay?” Desiree asks, alarmed at the numb expression on her cousin’s face. Even Nia, Piper, and Allegra have dropped their ire at her; they’re all looking at Uma with concern and worry.

Uma sits down on the bed next to Desiree and slowly drags her eyes up. “My mother,” she says, then shakes her head as devastation sweeps across her face.

Desiree wants nothing more than to enfold Uma in her arms in these moments, but she has learned the hard way that Uma always flinches away after encounters with Ursula, because she associates physical contact with pain. Even when there aren’t bruises or visible marks on Uma, she will eschew anyone who touches her, and will curl in on herself to seem smaller.

“We should have t-shirts made," Nia says, in an obvious attempt to make Uma feel better. "Our Mothers are Bitches and All We Have are These Shirts because They Suck.”

Uma lets out a sound between a scoff and a laugh and Allegra adds in. “No, seriously, you’ll never believe what she did, Uma.”

“You mean, what _didn't_ she do.” Madi says sourly, making a silly face at Talea. “Because she certainly didn't remember my name or Allegra's.”

Uma blinks and her eyes focus on Madi. “No, she did not.”

“That's not all.” Nia shifts in her chair, fully ready to bitch. “She told Jonas that he needed to give her more money, and then made him empty out his pockets for stuff to sell. And then she told me that my hair made me look like a boy.”

A dark look is on Uma’s face now. “Please tell me that you aren't changing your hair because of your mother—”

“Nah, I wanted to change it for a while anyways. But that's nothing compared to what she did to Des.”

“Nia—”

“There's more?”

“It’s unimportant—”

“Ma's always been a slut for drama,” Allegra says disgustedly, then pauses. “As well as just a regular slut.”

“Mama's a slut!” Lala sings, as Sarai chooses that exact moment to shake off the pink synthetic extensions off her head with a low whine, trotting over to Madi and leaning down to sniff at Talea. Nia stifles a giggle and Uma even snickers, but Desiree's glare silences them.

“Lyrica, don't say that.”

“What, slut?” Lala asks innocently. There's a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and Desiree takes a moment to mourn the loss of her baby sister, who used to be innocent, before six older siblings corrupted her.

“Yes, don't say that word.”

“Okay slut,” Lala giggles, and Desiree turns to glare at Allegra, who is smirking, but quickly looks contrite when she catches the daggers in her older sister's gaze.

“We should probably go,” she says, reaching over to grab Lala by the waist, making her squeal. “We're supposed to meet the others at Hades' racetrack.”

Nia stands up as well, and Madi also rises from the ground, taking Talea by the hand.

Desiree frowns at them. “The racetrack? Why there?”

Nia rolls her eyes, looking remarkably like Jonas in that moment. “Come on Des, we won't get into any trouble.”

“Jonas said it was okay,” Piper tacks on, giving Desiree puppy eyes.

Mentally making a note to kill her twin later, she asks, “Where are you leaving Talea and Poppy?”

“With Auntie Persephone,” Allegra answers promptly. “Lala will be kept away from the track, but she will be allowed to roam the caves.”

They’ve obviously rehearsed this, and even if Desiree says no, she has a feeling they’re going to do what they want anyways. “Fine. But remember, we're getting picked up at nine in the morning tomorrow. If any of you show up hungover or high—”

“We won't!” Her sisters scurry out the door, and Sarai follows them, her tail wagging. None of them look back.

“You look like you just sent them off to war.”

Uma's voice is casual, but she's scrutinizing Desiree closely. “Nia never finished about what Auntie said to you.”

“You never said what happened to you,” Desiree points out.

Uma twists the gold starfish ring on her finger. “The usual stuff. But seriously Des, I heard some of what was going on before I came in. What happened?”

She shakes her head and gets off the bed, bending down to sweep hair extensions off of the floor. “Nia over-exaggerated. It wasn't that bad.”

_It was worse._

“Desiree.”

Desiree finishes sweeping the hair extensions into a bag and turns to face Uma.

_“Melisma,” Morgana croons. “My baby. Come to Mommy, my Melisma.”_

_Desiree holds out Poppy and Morgana takes the baby, cooing at her and cradling her to her chest._

_Jonas shares a quick glance with Desiree, and he already looks resigned, having just handed over his wallet to their mother (even though Morgana has never cared about her or Jonas, she has a thrall over them they cannot seem to escape), but there is the sharp edge of watchfulness as well. He doesn't trust Morgana with Poppy, and neither does Desiree. Morgana has clearly been using again, her pupils are dilated, and the black dress hangs off of her stick figure frame._

_Poppy is squirming uncomfortably and fussing. However, as Morgana tries to comfort her, Poppy outright starts crying and reaching towards Desiree pleadingly._

_Morgana is standing still, looking confused and hurt while Desiree takes Poppy from her and bounces her a few times to calm her. Something soft and sad enters her eyes as she watches Desiree easily comfort Poppy, who pillows her head on Desiree's chest._

_“You stole my baby.”_

_Desiree looks up at her mother, panicked. “No, no I didn't—”_

_“Yes you did!” Morgana's voice is rising hysterically, and Talea is starting to look scared. “You stole my baby!”_

_Jonas tries to intervene, stepping forward. “Ma, calm down—”_

_“Shut up!” Their mother screams. She turns on Desiree, seething. “You think you're better than me, is that it? You think you're a better mother than me?”_

_“No, no, I've - I've never—” Desiree stammers, shrinking back. Poppy is starting to cry again, and she tries to soothe her, but Talea is crying as well, and Lala is trembling._

_“Well, fuck you, you little bastard!” Their mother's voice bounces off the walls as she advances on Desiree. “They're my children, and you can't have them!” Her violet lips pull back into a snarl as she rocks unsteadily on her feet. “Do you think that if you slap on a pair of fake tits and put on makeup that'll make you more of a girl?”_

_“Mom, stop!” Piper shrieks. Allegra has a death grip on Piper's arm and Nia is standing her ground, but she's also shaking._

_“Don't interrupt me when I'm having a conversation with your brother,” Morgana says venomously as Desiree flinches. “I don't care how much you shave your beard or how big your tits get Josiah, you will never, ever be a mother—”_

_“Stop it,” Jonas's face is drained of all color, but his tone is furious as he steps in front of Desiree. “You don't get to talk to her like that.”_

_Morgana cackles. “What are you going to do to me, boy? Are you going to hit me?”_

_“No, we're leaving,” Jonas says coldly. “And unlike you, Des and I are going to make sure that the girls are raised with love. Des, let's go.”_

_Nia shoulders her bag and Piper's while Piper takes Talea into her arms. Allegra holds Madi's hand as they walk towards the door, and Desiree follows them with Poppy. Jonas takes Lala's hand and also starts to lead her away._

_“You can't!” Morgana starts to sob. “I'm their mother; I won't let you take my girls away from me!”_

_“You should've thought of that earlier, bitch,” Nia spits, walking out the door._

_“Lyrica!” Morgana wails, directing her call at Madi, who ignores her and stalwartly walks on._

_Lala hesitates and turns to look at their mother, but Jonas puts a hand on her shoulder and steers her towards the door._

_Desiree takes one final look at Morgana, who is hunched over herself, sobbing, and bites her lip to hold back the tears as she closes the door._

Uma's eyes have been growing steadily wider as Desiree tells her what happened, and she looks horror-stricken. “Des . . .”

“It’s fine,” Desiree cuts her off. “We'll never have to see her again. It doesn't matter.”

“Yes it does! Desiree, you know she's a crazy bitch, right? She's completely wrong about what she said about you.”

There is a lump growing in her throat, but Desiree manages to get out, “I know.”

“Do you? Because honestly, I don't know what the girls would do without you and Jonas would be a complete mess—”

The door opens again, and Bonnie, Claudine, and Marya step inside, holding huge garbage bags.

“Cap, I got the stuff—” Bonnie breaks off as she picks up on the tension in the room. “Is everything okay?”

“We can leave if you want,” Claudine offers, looking around uneasily.

Marya will probably go out to slit Morgana's throat if she finds out what happened, so before Uma can say anything, Desiree quickly cuts in. “Nothing's wrong. We were just talking about what to do about Drizella Tremaine's girls.”

Bonnie lowers herself onto a chair. “They're still refusing to come to Auradon?”

“Yeah,” Uma says, casting a scowl at Desiree, who makes a face back at her. “DJ told me to fuck off and that they didn't need help from a nigra.”

“Always so charming and polite, those girls,” Bonnie mutters. “She should be grateful we even offered.”

“Trust me, I only offered after _this_ one—” Uma jerked her head at Claudine, “guilted me into it.”

Claudine shudders. “I didn't know that they were as racist as their mother.”

Marya shakes her head. “I still can't believe Drizella killed herself.”

“Those poor girls . . .” Claudine twists the ends of her headscarf. “First Dizzy leaves and now Drizella is dead. What will they do now?”

“Who cares?” Uma stands up and stretches. “We gave them an out, they said no. We move on - don't give me that look Desiree, there is plenty of food on the Isle and Anastasia will let them stay at her place.”

“Fine.” Even though her tone is cool, Desiree cannot quell the sudden thought that it could very easily be her mother trying to slit her wrists next. After all, only Drizella's youngest child had left and that was enough to drive her to the brink. All of Morgana's children are going away . . .

“Yeah, so Uma, I have something to ask you,” Marya speaks up, looking nervous. “My sister thinks her cat is our dead brother reincarnated—”

“What the  _fuck_?”

“Did you know about this?” Bonnie whispers to Desiree, who groans and grabs a pillow to bury her face in. Gods, why is everyone in her life so _weird_?

“So to avoid a lot of crying, could we take him to Auradon?”

“Yes. God. Fuck.” Uma scrubs at her face. “Everyone else is taking their animals – why does she think the cat is your brother?!”

“I don’t _know_ —”

The door opens again, and Ashe and Sierra stumble in, giggling and nearly tripping inside. "What up, bitches?" Ashe asks, as Sierra sits down on Bonnie's lap. Bonnie looks highly disturbed and tries to shake Sierra off, but Sierra just smiles serenely.

Marya wrinkles her nose. "You smell like gasoline," she accuses Ashe.

“It’s my natural musk,” Ashe replies with a straight face.

“She burned down her dad’s drug warehouses,” Sierra calls out, leaning back into Bonnie. “You’re very comfortable.”

 _“Ashe!”_ Claudine looks horrified. “Tell me that’s not true!”

“Are you drunk?” Bonnie asks Sierra.

“What? Come on, my dad is a major asshole. Tell me he didn’t deserve to have all his shit burnt to the ground.”

“Yes, Ashe stole some absinthe.” Sierra motions lazily at Ashe’s bag. “We’re gonna . . . we’re gonna pre-drink with it, you guys. It’s going to be totally awesome.”

“I cannot believe you would do something like this,” Uma berates Ashe. “This is the exact opposite of what I told you. Did I not tell you to lay low, you moron?”

“Lighten up Triskelion, it’s going to be fine,” Ashe says lazily, rummaging through her bag. “You worry too much.”

“No, I don’t! I—” Uma stops talking and stares at the green bottle that Ashe just stuffed in her hand. “What the hell is this?”

“Absinthe,” Ashe replies, taking a sip from her own bottle as she hands bottles out to Desiree, Marya, Claudine, and Bonnie. Desiree uncorks the bottle, then recoils as the smell of licorice springs out.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Drink it. It’s magical, it’ll make you forget all of your problems.”

Uma studies the bottle with a new interest. “Really?” She uncorks her bottle and takes a swig, after which she immediately starts coughing. “Fuck, it burns!”

“Uma!” Desiree scolds.

“Des, I have had a horrible day,” Uma says, wiping her mouth and taking another swig. “I had to sell my ship and my mother told me to kill seven people in Auradon to make up for my siblings. Please, just spare me the lecture and let me have this?”

“This is a terrible coping mechanism.”

“It’s only for one night,” Uma replies dismissively. “Come on Des, your mom also said shitty stuff that you want to forget about.”

Morgana’s voice echoes through her head. _“No matter how big your tits get, Josiah, you will never be a mother . . .”_

Before she can think too much about it, Desiree takes a swig and coughs as fire and ice trail down her throat.

“My mother is a cunt,” she says softly, savoring the words she’s swallowed down for so long. “And we’re never going to have to live on the Isle again, so tonight we drink to celebrate and forget our lives on this hellhole.”

“Good toast,” Bonnie says dryly, then takes a drink, Claudine sipping from the absinthe as well. Sierra drinks, and Ashe salutes her before tipping back her bottle.

There is a fire in Marya’s eyes as she takes a drink from her bottle. “Let’s forget then.”

 

*****

 

The walls of the Bargain Castle thrum with the bass beat and throngs of people cover the recently cleared floor, dancing and grinding on each other. Some person has hung a chandelier from the ceiling, along with a bunch of colored paper lanterns, which cast dim spots of light like fireflies across the room. The main lights are dimmed down low, and the smell of smoke and perfume mixes, adding to the general air of intoxication.

Murph stands in a corner near the door, sipping on his rum and surveying the room. Dancing in the sweaty mass of people is hardly appealing, though Jonas and Gonzo seem to be enjoying themselves. Murph isn’t sure how Gonzo hasn’t sweated straight through his kurta yet, given the increased temperature in the room. Maybe he’s just determined to stick out his fashion choice for the entire party. Jonas seems to have no such qualms; he’s already shucked his shirt off somewhere, much to the delight of a group of girls.

Harry is playing beer pong with Gil, and they’re crushing the Stabbingtons, who are looking increasingly pissed. Murph wonders if the Stabbingtons know that Gil and Harry cheat like nobody’s business at every single drinking game imaginable, but hey, if they haven’t figured it out by now then maybe they deserve to be swindled.

The girls are late, but that’s not unusual. Desiree probably insisted on checking on the kids before she came, and then they would have gotten sidetracked ‘on an adventure’ as Sierra would put it.

It feels weird without Nicky near him. He hasn’t been away from the kid for more than two hours since the day he was born, and now he’s spending the entire night at the god of the Underworld’s place. Don’t get him wrong, Hades is pretty chill and Persephone is the nicest person ever; it just feels strange to know that this is his life.

Hell, if he had known his life would change this much the day he joined Uma’s crew . . .

The doors to the Bargain Castle burst open, and the girls spill inside in a tangle of jewelry, hair, and party clothes.

“Murph!” Sierra exclaims, whirling around him in a bright red dress that hits mid-thigh. “Are you here to personally welcome each guest?”

“Wassup?” Ashe attempts to give him a complicated handshake, but then forgets most of it and grins up at him. “How you been?”

“Good,” Murph replies, bemused. “Is that lingerie?”

Ashe looks down at the sheer black slip and smirks. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” Her eyes focus on his pants, which feel practically painted onto his body. “Damn, I didn’t know you were circumcised.”

“Ashe, stop making Murph uncomfortable. You said you would be nice, remember?” Claudine says, clutching onto Desiree’s arm to balance herself. Her shoes lift her off the ground by at least four inches, and she has the skirt of her purple lehenga hitched up so she can see where she’s walking.

“Stop crowding the door!” Marya orders, shoving Ashe and Sierra out of the way, who swat at her. She’s wearing a navy blue dress with the shortest skirt that he’s ever seen, in direct contrast to Desiree, whose emerald dress hem brushes the floor in the back. “Come dance with me, Des.”

“But—” Desiree looks out at the crowd with distaste. “I don’t want to.”

“Too bad.” Marya unceremoniously drags Desiree out to the dance floor while the girls and Murph laugh at them.

Bonnie steps through the door and makes a face. “God, it smells like a bordello in here.”

“Nice to see you too, Bon.” Murph teases, giving her a once-over and an appreciative whistle. “Damn girl, you actually cleaned up pretty well.”

“Shut your mouth,” Bonnie retorts, but she looks pleased at the compliment. Her black and burgundy patterned suit catches the light, glittering softly every time she moves.

“Murph. Murph.” Uma is tugging at his arm and when he turns to face her, she has to tilt her head to look up at him. “Will you carry me all night?”

“Um . . .”

“You’re very tall,” Uma informs him. “I’m not, which is why I need you to carry me. People respect tall people.” She pauses, and then adds. “Also because my shoes are really high and they hurt.”

Claudine, Sierra, and Ashe are all snickering, the bastards, so Murph looks at Bonnie for help, but she just grins and pats his shoulder. “I’m going to go find Jonas.”

Murph discreetly flips her off as she saunters away, and turns back to Uma, who is waiting patiently for his answer.

“Captain,” he begins, trying to figure out what to say. “I would love to carry you around all night but . . .” (Think, goddamn it!) “I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

Ashe hides a snort as Uma starts protesting. “Whaaat? No, why wouldn’t it be appropriate? It’s just one friend doing a favor for another friend – stop giggling Sierra, you know what I mean – and friends do all sorts of favors for each other – for platonic friendship purposes, Ashe!”

“I know Captain,” Murph replies diplomatically, shooting a dirty look at Claudine, who is shaking her head at him. “And while it would be my honor as your friend to carry you around all night, I just don’t think it would be appropriate, since you’re not wearing underwear.”

Uma looks down at her dress, which is comprised of black mesh and straps and cutouts that reveal far more of her skin than cover it. The aqua skirt is slit up to her hips, the sides lazily connected with sashes. “That is true,” she admits, then claps Murph on the small of his back; the highest point of him she can reach. “Good call, dude. Even if you are strictly dickly, it would be pretty awkward.”

“Great. I’m glad you understand.” (Do not laugh, do not laugh, must stay stone-faced and completely serious . . .)

“Enough talking!” Claudine announces, grabbing Uma’s hand. “Let’s go show these basic white girls how to _really_ dance.”

“Yes!” Uma high-fives her. “We gon’ show those bitches tonight!”

“Get ready to be culturally schooled!” Sierra crows, following them to the dance floor.

Ashe makes to go after them, but Murph grabs her shoulder. “You should know . . . Rick Ratcliffe and a bunch of guys are doing cocaine in the corner so just . . . you know . . .” He trails off awkwardly.

Maybe it’s the lighting and all of the rum he’s drunk, but Ashe looks almost touched. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “I’ll . . . I’ll avoid that area.”

“You do that,” Murph says, and quickly takes a sip of his rum as Ashe walks away. God, he’s already used up his speaking quota for a year. He better not have to talk again, ever.

 

*****

 

The edges of her vision are blurry, but she isn't too worried about it, because everything is warm and there are soft butterflies in fluttering under her skin. Nothing can be too bad that involves butterflies, right?

But then actual butterflies start showing up.

They materialize out of the air one by one, fluttering gently and alighting on top of people's heads and shoulders while they continue chatting obliviously.

Until now, Uma has just been feeling regular drunk; flighty and a little giggly, but the sight of the silver butterflies makes her also realize that the music seems like it's echoing in her ears and that all of her senses feel heightened.

“Oh fuck,” she says out loud, but Bonnie and Claudine don't seem to hear her; they just keep dancing. “I'm totally tripping.”

Suddenly, her eyes focus on Harry, who's over by the drinks (he’s not wearing a ripped shirt, thank Black Jesus), and she needs to go there right now.

 “Harry!” She calls, stumbling towards him and nearly tripping over some plum-haired girl who is trying to unsuccessfully flirt with him. His eyes go wide as he takes in her dress and she mentally high-fives herself as she reaches up and places her hands around his neck to steady herself. “Harry.”

Harry looks down at her amusedly while his arms circle around her waist. “What is it, darling?” His voice is slipping deeper into his accent and he's clearly taken a few shots before this one. A few butterflies land on his shoulders, shimmering delicately.

“I'm tripping,” she tells him confidentially, leaning into him even further as a butterfly lands on her hand. “I'm tripping _balls_ baby.”

“No shit, really?” He’s clearly teasing her, but she decides to let it go, because the absinthe has put her in a generous and forgiving mood towards everyone.

“No shit,” Uma assures him, carding her fingers through his hair. “You have amazing hair, have I ever told you that?”

“Yes, but tell me again,” he grins lasciviously down at her while the plum-haired girl huffs angrily and storms away. If Uma had been less drunk and forgiving, she would have told the girl to go find her own pirate with pretty eyes, but all she can focus on is how soft Harry's hair is.

“You know you're saying all of this out loud, right?”

_Ah fuck._

“You said that out loud too.”

“I used to be so smooth,” Uma mutters and Harry laughs at her.

“So how'd you get high?” He asks, sitting down on a couch and pulling her down into his lap. The butterflies fly away, agitated by his movement.

“Ashe,” she replies absently, still petting his hair. “She gave us some of her dad's absinthe and we chased it with whiskey . . . And some of Jonas's stash of Bottom of the Barrel.”

“That was you?” Harry smirks at her smug nod. “Jonas was so pissed when he realized half of it was gone.”

“Your first instinct was to drink Jonas's crappy swill to get drunk?”

“So was yours!”

“No, we drank Marya's stash of whiskey,” she smirks at him. “You went immediately for Bottom of the Barrel.”

“I don't have to justify myself to you,” Harry scoffs. “I'll have you know we drank an entire case of rum!”

“Okay, baby,” she replies condescendingly, grinning at the offended look he gives her. "Did you do body shots?"

He laughs uneasily. “I'm not doing body shots off your cousin, darling, we don't have that kind of relationship.”

“Probably for the best,” she admits. Her fingers have finally figured out how to work again and oh look! She's undone a button!

“Uma, love?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you trying to undress me?”

Uma pauses in the middle of ripping out one of his final buttons. “. . . No.”

“Okay then.”

 

*****

 

“No one's slick as Gaston, no one's quick as Gaston, no one's neck's as incredibly thick as Gaston!”

Gil leans back in his armchair, a wide grin on his face despite the sulky posture he's supposed to have right now. He waves at Uma, and she waves back, laughing.

They’ve all reached the stage in the evening where they’re all extremely drunk and tired of dancing; so now it’s time to do stupid shit to entertain themselves.

Like this.

“For there's no man in town half as manly!” La Foux Deux sings, barely suppressing a hiccup.

Ashe, Sierra, and Claudine, who are all lounging on the arms of the chair, sing out; “Perfect, a pure paragon!”

They're supposed to stroke his hair and chin, but Claudine accidentally runs her hand over his entire face and then breaks into a fit of giggles, whispering “Oh  _shit_ ,” while Gil, Ashe, and Sierra all start snickering as well.

“You can ask any Tom, Dick, or Stanley!” La Foux enthuses, approaching Reggie, Harry, and Gonzo, who salute him with their shots. “And they'll tell you whose team they prefer to be on. Who plays . . .”

The boys all pause, and a look of panic comes across their faces.

“Losers,” Desiree whispers gleefully into Bonnie's ear, before yelling, “Shots for forgetting!”

They all groan, but still down their shots. Yet, the alcohol seems to trigger something in Gonzo's brain though, because he slams down his shot glass and bellows out, “Cards like Gaston!”

“Who breaks hearts like Gaston!” Reggie and Harry yell out, also slamming down their glasses.

“Who's much more than the sum of his parts like Gaston!”

“As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating!” Gil choruses with a grin, pretending to kiss his biceps.

“MY WHAT A GUY THAT GASTON!” The room practically shakes with the force of their singing.

 

*****

 

_“You say that you a baller, and I see you tryna holla, but that ain’t how I was bought up, next—”_

“Alright, let's light this fucker up!” Sierra yells over the music. She's sitting astride a broomstick with sashes and sparklers hanging from the twigs. Her red lipsticked grin is feral, and her eyes are glittering as she brushes a strand of brown and blonde hair out of her face.

Claudine is finally sober enough to look concerned as she takes out a match. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely!” Sierra replies cheerfully. “I've done this so many times. Ask Bonnie!”

Bonnie sighs from where she's standing next to Ashe, watching from the other balcony. “It's true,” she admits begrudgingly. "Sierra's flying trick is practically a party staple at this point. She’s a pro at swinging from the sashes and she knows to let go of the broom—”

“Don't worry your pretty little head about it Claud,” Ashe calls over. “Sierra's gonna be fine!”

“I wanna go!” Talon, Sierra's brother, complains.

“Not until you've grown your first chest hair, little bro,” Sierra smirks at the pout on Talon's face. “Claud! Light this shit up!”

“This is going to be so awesome,” Harry whispers gleefully to Gil, who grins brightly and waves at Sierra.

“Heave, men!” Marya orders from where she’s standing on a table. With grunts and much complaining, Jonas, Gonzo, Murph, and a few others pull the rope attached to the chandelier closer to Sierra’s balcony.

“Lord Jesus, Brother Muhammed, Krishna, and whoever else is listening, please don't make me regret this,” Claudine mumbles to herself, before striking the match and quickly getting out of the way.

Sierra jumps off of the balcony and lands on the chandelier, immediately tossing the broom up towards the ceiling. As the fire races down the fuse, the broom shoots off (with the help of some propellers Gonzo pre-installed) and spirals maniacally throughout the air. The boys let go of the chandelier, and Sierra swings wildly for a second before yelling, “Fire!”

Uma, Reggie, Talon and other party-goers raise their water guns, and water arcs through the air towards the firework, which sputters out sadly and falls to the floor.

In the middle of watching this though, Sierra’s grip on the chandelier loosens and she lets out a surprised shriek as she plummets from the ceiling.

“Oh shit! Shitshitshitshit!” Uma yells. “Murph – Gonzo – fuck, someone get a blanket or something.”

“On it!” Gonzo, Reggie, Rick, and Jonas stand under the chandelier and spread the blanket out (thank gods for Raisa and Tom, who had brought in a blanket to have sex on but hadn’t gotten to the sex yet) and Sierra lands on it, still screaming.

Bonnie rushes over. “Jesus Christ, Sierra, are you alright?” she demands as Sierra tumbles off of the blanket. “This is why we told you not to do this! Why did you not listen to me?”

“Are you kidding?” Sierra asks, her eyes shining. “That was the best thing ever! I’m doing that again! Boys, get the chandelier ready!”

“What, Sierra – Motherfucker!” But Sierra is already racing up to the balcony, Ashe by her side. (“Hell yeah, I’m getting in on this too.”)

Claudine descends the stairs, looking shell-shocked and Uma wraps an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t think too much on it Claud,” she tells her sagely. “Just drink.”

“No, it’s not that,” Claudine says, her eyes unfocused. “It’s just . . .” she glances up at Uma, shamefaced. “I kind of want to do it now?”

Uma and Marya laugh as Desiree looks horrified and Bonnie starts cursing out Ashe and Sierra for corrupting Claudine.

 

*****

 

_“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen, there was a cat that really was gone. Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine, it was a shame how he carried on!”_

“Hold still!” Gil orders, brandishing his crossbow.

“Absolutely not,” Marya is twirling around the room, her dress spinning out around her dizzyingly. Gil shoots, but his shot goes wide, and Marya's purple lips curl up into a sneer as she addresses Gil. “Aw, sunshine, didn't your daddy teach you how to hit a moving target?”

“That's it,” Gil seethes, stuffing more bolts into his bow and firing off a quick round at Marya. “You're going down, bitch!”

Marya nimbly dances out of the way of the bolts as they slam into the wall behind her. “You missed, baby boy!” She says triumphantly. “You know what that means!”

Sierra rolls her eyes and pushes her way forward as Gil downs a shot of something bright pink with a shudder. “Never send a man to do a woman's job,” she says witheringly before hurling two knives at Marya in quick succession.

Marya easily dodges the knives and bares her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Come on Si-Si, I've drunk two bottles of cyanide and that's the best you can do?” She spreads her arms wide and addresses the whole room. "Is there no one that can aim in this place?"

Gonzo shakes his head and downs a shot, Murph hides a smirk, Jonas scowls and empties the dregs of a vodka bottle into his glass, and the other people watching cough awkwardly and pretend to be busy.

“You're not going up?” Uma murmurs to Harry, sipping from her absinthe.

“Fuck no,” Harry declares. “I'm not screwing with the Rasputin curse. Besides, on the off-chance that I do hit Marya, she'll cut my balls off.”

“Fair point.”

Desiree steps up, twirling her pistol in her fingers. “I'll go.”

A collective murmur goes around the room and Jonas leans forward, eyes sparkling. “This just got interesting.”

Gonzo nudges Murph’s shoulder. “Twenty bucks on Desiree.”

Murph tops off his glass. “No way. Marya’s never gotten hit.”

“So we agree?”

“Sure.” Gonzo and Murph shake on it and turn to watch the show.

Marya raises an eyebrow at her girlfriend, a slow grin growing on her face. “Are you sure, sweetheart? Your aim isn't the best.”

“That's not what you said last night,” Desiree replies coolly.

“Guys, boundaries!” Uma calls out desperately, as Jonas gags.

“Hit me with your best shot, babe!” Marya smirks at Desiree. “I'll move a little slower than usual, just to give you a fair chance.”

“That's so generous,” Desiree replies dryly, lifting the pistol and pulling the trigger three times; once at Marya's head, twice at the chest area.

Uma is eighty percent sure that she hallucinates the next part, but judging by the way Harry's jaw falls open and Gil lets out a shocked, “Holy shit!”, her eyes are not deceiving her.

Marya leaps into the air and somehow manages to pirouette out of the way of the bullets, landing in a crouch and rolling up as the wall behind her (coincidentally marked up with a heavily marked up self-portrait of Mal) is peppered with holes.

"Fucking Rasputins man," Ashe says admiringly as Claudine shakes her head in wonderment.

Marya glances behind her and grins. “Nice job, you totally would have killed Mal!”

“To killing Mal!” Murph calls out, not quite managing to hide the grin on his face as Gonzo scowls and digs out bills from his pocket.

“To killing Mal!” The room choruses, holding up their glasses as Desiree face-palms and Marya bows.

_“Oh those Russians . . .”_

 

*****

 

“I think this is why my father told me to stay away from boys when I went to school.” Claudine says with wide eyes as she watches Harry wrestle a thrashing crocodile. “They’re all idiots.”

“You know it,” Uma clinks her bottle with Claudine’s and then tilts her head. “I have to admit though, his arms look amazing when he does that.”

“Mmm.” Claudine takes a sip of absinthe. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re engaged?”

“What the – Claud, for the last time, we are not engaged!”

“Whatever you say!” Claudine smiles innocently, then coughs out “Engaged!” in the middle of her next drink. “Oh, I’m sorry; I must have choked . . .”

“Claud . . .”

“Alright!” Claudine holds her hands up in surrender and for a while they sit quietly while Gonzo slams a crocodile to the floor and Shawn Medusa makes the mistake of punching one in the stomach. Jonas and Reggie rush over to assist him and Claudine speaks up. “Gil has nice arms as well.”

Uma nearly chokes on her absinthe but manages to catch herself. “Ye – yeah, totally!” (Ha, she knew it! Harry owes her so much money!)

They both tilt their heads and watch the boys as they continue wrestling the very pissed off crocodiles. Around them, the party rages on.

 

*****

 

They're now at the portion of the evening where they're singing Russian drinking songs - (the Russians have the best drinking songs, everyone knows that) and those who are staying behind on the Isle are leading everyone in a rousing chorus.

“Here’s to – happiness, freedom and light!” Fang gets out in a rush, sloppily saluting the room with his drink as they all cheer.

“May your travel be swift as a scythe cuts through the grass!” Sammy Smee calls out, a wide grin on his face. Harry claps him on the shoulder and they embrace like brothers.

“Whoa, whoa!” Jonas has his arm around Bonnie, Gil has Claudine involved in a ridiculously complicated dance, and Ashe is in the corner making out with a green-haired girl. Desiree whispers something to Marya, and they both smile the secretive smiles of people who are about to escape and go have sex in a spare room, and Claudine and Uma are dancing in the throng of people. Uma’s feet have gone numb, but she’s fine with that, it’s future Uma’s problem now.

“May your sorrows be counted and numbered as many as drops of wine and vodka that stay in my glass!” Harriet manages to get out all in one breath, leaning dramatically against Murph as she finishes. Murph laughs and shoves her as she ‘accidentally’ elbows him.

“Whoa, whoa!”

 Marya looks away from Desiree long enough to yell the next phrase. _“Vsego horoshego na pososhok poekhali!”_

 _“Vsego horoshego na pososhok poekhali!”_ The room sings back at her, and Marya’s Russian sensibilities are hurt a bit at their godawful accents, but she is willing to be gracious. The lights dim and grow brighter as the room bellows out.

_“Vsego horoshego na pososhok poekhali. Na pososhok poekhali!”_

Uma holds out the long note as long as she can before the music changes to a beat that is very familiar and then her crew is circling her, chanting her name while she spins around and twirls like the ocean made flesh. Above her, the lights twinkle like the stars and even the walls seem to thrum in time to the music.

_“Uuuma. Uuuma. Uuuma . . .”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malyshka (Russian): kiddo, or little girl  
> Marya is immune to cyanide because of her father, Rasputin, who according to Felix Yusopov, did not die even though he consumed cyanide.  
> The songs used in this chapter were "Gaston" by Howard Ashman and Alan Menken, "BO$$" by Fifth Harmony, "Rasputin" by Boney M, "The Abduction" from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812, and "What's My Name" by China Anne McClain.  
> "Vsego horoshego na pososhok poekhali" roughly translated means, "Good luck! One for the road! Here we go!"


End file.
